


Hold Your Own

by sniearrs



Series: How We Roll [1]
Category: Hollywood Undead (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 01:06:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18084452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sniearrs/pseuds/sniearrs
Summary: Toby Chase would like to say she grew up easy, living in Hollywood and having anything she could want. But after her abusive father leaves, she's left torn between relief and sadness, finding solace in her one possession: her motorcycle. She begins to build a new story for herself, the story of the badass biker chick, with seven wild boys as her new friends. Parties, drugs, drinks, and girls, the scene is set.  That is until secrets come out about Toby's life and the lives of the undead friends she's made. Her only dream is to ride out of LA on her rumbling bike, but she's afraid she can't hold her own away from the new life she's made.





	1. Repairs

High school has this weird grip on you. You hate being there and going to class and doing your homework, but at the same time, you can't wait to get to school and see your friends and do your sports and clubs. This was my problem.

I was shaken awake on the morning of September 2nd.

"Toby Chase, if you don't get up now, I'm leaving without you," my mother's raspy voice called.

Groggily sitting up in bed. I threw the sheets off my legs and stumbled around my room.

"Shit, school," I mumbled to myself, making my way to my closet. This is where the problem begins.

Now that I was a junior in high school, all my classes are cracking down and the homework was increasing to levels beyond stressful. I was so excited. On the other hand, I'd get to see my best friend again. Her name was Mari Davidson. She's been gone at camp all summer long, so I've hardly been able to talk to her. Which camp? Well, an acting camp, of course. We live in Hollywood! What else is there to do?

There I was, standing in front of my closet of clothes, torn between excitement and dread for the new school year.

"Toby, if you don't hurry your ass up, I won't even bother calling into school to explain why you're late!" I heard my mother holler.

"I'm coming, Mom," I yelled in reply. I frantically grabbed an outfit from my closet and put it on. A pair of jean short shorts and a tight, plain, gray tank top. I was one of those girls who really didn't mind showing off their body. I've been running for ten years now, which has served me well.

I scurried into the bathroom and quickly combed my wild, auburn hair. Checking the time, I noticed I wouldn't be able to straighten my natural waves, so I tied it up in a messy bun, letting a few pieces fall around my face.

Running downstairs, I saw my mom sitting at the kitchen table, reading over some paperwork. She worked as a secretary at an accounting firm. It wasn't the best-paid job, but it was enough to help us scrape by.

"I've got some food on the counter. Your jacket and helmet are sitting on the couch," my mother told me, not even lifting her eyes from the paper.

I grabbed the food on the counter, which was an apple and a jug of fat-free milk. I shoved those things in my school backpack. I then got my helmet and jacket from the couch. I pulled the jacket on, loving the feeling of the leather on my bare arms.

"Alright, let's get going," I shouted enthusiastically.

After my mom shoved her stuff in a bag, I followed her out to her car. It was a super old Camaro that honestly shouldn't be working anymore, but it somehow was still sputtering through the streets.

"So, Rob says that overall, your bike's fine, it's just the gears are catching weirdly and the clutch was fickle. I advise you to take it easy the next week or so," my mom told me as soon as we drove off.

"Sounds good. How much for repairs?" I tentatively asked her. Money was a bit of a sore subject in our house.

"Not too bad, though I think we should both ask for a few extra hours to make up for it."

My mom parked the car in front of a huge warehouse. The sign above it read _'Rob's Automotive Repairs'_ in large, red letters. I hopped out of the car, thanking my mom for the ride.

"Toby Chase, is that you?" a scruffy voice asked me. I looked around for who said it. Then, hearing the sound of something rolling, I looked down.

Rob appeared from underneath a car. He had short-cropped, black hair that was graying at the ends and a square jaw. A 5 o'clock shadow was his only facial hair, despite the fact it was seven in the morning.

"Hey, Rob, just here to pick up my bike," I told him with a yawn.

Rob pushed himself up and wiped his greasy hands on his shirt. "She's right back here. I just tightened the clutch and readjusted the gears,"

Rob weaved his way through his messy warehouse to rows and rows of motorcycles. He jogged to his office to grab the key. I glanced around at the other bikes that were sitting out, a nice looking Kawasaki Ninja 300 catching my eye. A boy was working on that one. He looked about my age with shaggy black hair and piercings in his ears. He wore a shirt with the arm sleeves ripped off and a pair of cargo shorts. His arms were lean but muscular.

When Rob came back, he handed the keys to me. I pulled my helmet on, pulling the strap tight under my chin and snapping it into place. I pushed my bike out from the row. It was a Yamaha FZ6R, a real beauty. Pushing the kickstand up and punching the keys in the ignition, I finally felt the familiar purr of the engine that I've been missing.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Rob shouted above the rumble that now filled the warehouse. "I tightened your suspension, should be smoother than ever!"

I beamed at Rob, though I don't think he could tell with my helmet on. "Thanks again, Rob!" I gave him a little salute, revved the engine, and let go of the clutch, gliding out of the warehouse and into the streets of Los Angeles.


	2. Operational Orders

Pulling up in front of school felt amazing. My tanned legs hugged my motorcycle as I rumbled into the parking lot. Everyone's eyes were on me as I wove my way through traffic. As soon as I parked and shut off the engine, I noticed that not only was everyone looking at me, but they had all frozen in place, their eyes glued to me. I smirked to myself before taking my helmet off. Thankfully, since my hair was up during the ride, it really wasn't messy. I took the keys out of the ignition and tucked my helmet under my arm. The student body unfroze and continued on their morning as if my badass entry didn't even happen. However, every time I walked past a group of people, their conversation would drop to a murmur. Man, did I like having this as my first impression.

"Toby!" I heard a shrill voice call from not too far away.

I whipped around only to be bowled over by my best friend.

"Mari!" I yelped in surprise as she almost tackled me to the ground.

"Toby, oh my god! It's so amazing to see you again!" Mari pulled me into a tight hug, nearly pushing all the wind out of my lungs. I simply patted her on the back with my free hand.

"You too," I smiled back at her.

"My god, that was the most kick-ass thing I've ever seen! When did you start riding?" Mari held me at arm's length, her smile spread ear to ear.

I lightly yanked myself from Mari's grip before slinging an arm around her shoulders. It was pretty easy to do so, she's almost half a foot shorter than me.

"Since early summer. Rob thought I should know, and turns out I have a real knack for it,"

Mari wrapped an arm around my waist, squeezing me close to her. "Talk about making an entrance, the whole school will be talking about you for days- Hell, weeks!"

I let out a laugh at that. The thought of the school talking about me for weeks weirded me out, but at the same time made me excited. This year was my year, and nothing was-

Mari yanked me backward as a blur of a person zoomed past us. My eyeballs rattled in my head. I blinked and shook my head, trying to figure out what happened.

"What the hell just happened?" I asked Mari.

"Some asshole on a skateboard just cut us off," Mari scoffed, then she dragged me the rest of the way into the building.

Once we were inside the school I motioned for Mari to follow me to her locker, but she just brushed past me, rolling her eyes. I guess she remembered where it was. Sure enough, Mari led me right to my locker and leaned against it. I shooed her away so I could unlock it. I put in the combination and the lock clicked. I opened my locker and hung my helmet up on a hook. I took my leather jacket off, hanging that up too.

"For real, you still have these?" Mari groaned. I looked to where she was pointing. All over the inside of my locker door were pictures of Mari and me from our childhood. My favorite one was a four-year-old me sitting on the top of a slide and a five-year-old Mari standing behind me, an evil grin plastered on her face. Needless to say, after that photo was taken, Mari shoved me down the slide. I still remember tumbling into the wood chips at the bottom.

"Yeah, of course I do! And I'll have them here next year too. There's no escaping the embarrassing baby pictures, Mari," I laughed and ruffled her hair, which gained me an angry look from her.

She swatted my hand away and decided to change the subject. "So, what's your schedule?"

I closed my locker and knelt down to get my schedule out. Ruffling through my folders, fear started to bubble up in my stomach.

"I can't find it anywhere," I groaned, sitting down and laying my head against the locker behind me.

_How could I be stupid enough to forget my class schedule at home?_ I questioned myself.

"Hey, it's alright, let's just go to the office and get you a new one," Mari gave me a soft smile.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't suppress a smile that soon spread across my lips. Sticking a hand out for Mari to pull me up, I hopped up from the floor. Grabbing my backpack, Mari and I headed to the office. Once we were there, she held the door open for me. There was only one person standing in front of the desk. He was leaning forward talking quietly with the secretary. He wore long jean shorts and a muscle tee. His head was taken over by black, curly hair.

"-him that he can't skate around here, it's against the rules. I don't want to call security on him again, but if he does it again, I don't exactly have much of a-" the secretary said before she was cut off by Mari clearing her throat.

The boy leaning on the desk turned around. He pursed his lips when he made eye contact with me, then stepped aside.

"Hi, sorry, I just need a copy of my schedule, I lost mine," I told the woman at the desk.

She nodded at tapped a few keys on her keyboard. "And what's your name?"

"Toby Chase," I smoothly replied.

A printer started whirring and the secretary rolled over to it on her chair. She grabbed the freshly printed piece of paper and handed it to me. I nodded at her, mouthing a thank you before turning around and leaving.

Glancing over my schedule, I sighed. "Man, I got all my hard classes in the morning. Pre-calc and then physics, then macroeconomics..." My voice trailed off as I groaned.

Mari snatched the paper from her eyes, scanning it over herself. "Hey, we have Photo together!" she called happily.

I grabbed my schedule back. "Really?" Mari nodded vigorously. "Sweet!"

The school bell chimed, which meant first hour was starting in a few minutes. Mari and I hugged each other good-bye, even though we'd see each other during lunch. I then hurried off to my first class.

Strolling into my Pre-Calculus class, I let my eyes flicker around the room, deciding where to sit. A lot of seats were already taken, but there was a few open near the far back corner. Only one guy was sitting back there, but he had his nose buried in a notebook. I shrugged and worked my way through the room, sitting in the row next to him. When I set down my backpack on the floor, he jumped ever so slightly, glancing over at me.

"Oh, sorry, I've got a heavy backpack," a nervous laugh covered my words. There was silence for a few seconds.

"You're the biker chick," he plainly said. I met his bright blue eyes. They looked icy and cold, especially on his emotionless face.

"Um, yeah, that's me," I replied. Smooth, I thought to myself, mentally facepalming.

A smile spread across his lips, his eyebrows perking up. His eyes didn't look so cold anymore. "The name's Jordon," he said, the tone of his voice fluctuating in the perfect spots.

I gave him a little smile back. "Hey, Jordan, I'm Toby,"

"It's Jordon with an 'o', by the way," he said calmly, leaning back in his seat.

"But Jordan does have an 'o' in it," I asked more than said, confused.

Jordon snickered and waved his hand at me as if he were shooing me away. "J-O-R-D-O-N," he spelled out for me.

"Oh!" I felt pretty stupid. Burying my face in my hands, I heard Jordon laugh.

"It's alright, everyone gets it wrong. I'm not really sure what my parents were on when they named me," he let out another laugh.

The bell rang, warning that there was one more minute until class started. Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out a notebook and calculator, not sure what the teacher had in mind for the day. Right before the final bell rang, there were the sounds of someone running in the hallway and rushing into the classroom. I watched Jordon lift his eyes from his notebook, and then his face lit up. He raised his hand in the air, waving it at whoever just entered the class. I turned my head to see who it was.

Standing in the doorway was a tall, fairly toned guy. His forearms alone were muscular enough to hold my attention. He wore a pair of athletic shorts boasting the school's colors and a simple black hoodie with the sleeves rolled up. He had shaggy, dark brown hair that curled around his ears. When he looked my direction, a corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. He started walking towards me.

_No, not to you stupid, to Jordon. They must be friends._ I scolded myself.

The new guy grabbed a seat behind me, as all the other seats had filled up by now.

"You're in this class? Since when?" Jordon leaned back in his chair to whisper to the new guy.

He flipped off Jordon. "Shut the hell up, don't act surprised. I'm actually decent at math. I think the better question is how the hell _you're_ in this class," He had a surprisingly deep voice for a high school student.

Jordon puckered his lips and said in a nasal voice, "Why calculus is an art, and I want to learn all there is to know about it,"

I rolled my eyes to myself. How the hell was I supposed to sit next to these two for the whole year? The teacher stood up and began talking, but my attention was quickly diverted.

"Am I graced with the presence of the biker chick?" the new guy's deep voice rumbled behind me.

"Damn right you are," Jordon answered for me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him wink. I swear, by the end of this hour my eyes would roll right out of my skull.

I felt someone tap on my shoulder. Even though I already knew who it was, I turned around. The new guy was leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. He smirked - which, mind you, looked good on him - and raised an eyebrow at me. I met his dark brown eyes, squinting my own brown eyes back at him.

"Yeah?" I asked curtly.

"What's your name, biker chick?" He dropped his gaze to his hand, opening and closing his fist, making his forearm flex.

_I see what's going on,_ I thought. _Two can play at that game._

"Seems like you already have a name for me, Bone Head," I scoffed, making sure he could sense the sarcasm in my words.

Sure enough, he did. He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the desk and resting his chin on his fists. "Well, biker chick, I'll make a deal with you. Tell me yours, and I'll tell you mine," He licked his lips, another smirk spreading across them.

"Dylan Alvarez," the teacher called from the front of the room.

I quickly turned in my seat, seeing the teacher glaring right at me. Well, not at me, the person behind me.

"Here," his deep voice rumbled.

I leaned back and whispered, "I guess the deal's off,"

He rolled his eyes, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest again. "You just wait,"

I turned back around, realizing what he meant. He'd learn my name during roll call. Damn. Game over.

"Toby Chase," I heard my name ripple through the silent classroom.

"Here," I called out, my voice not wavering once. Just like earlier in the parking lot, everyone's eyes were on me.

"Henry Conway," the teacher continued reading off names.

"Nice to meet you, Toby Chase," Dylan murmured in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. Why did I like him saying my name like that?

I shook off the feeling, saying, "Likewise, Dylan Alvarez."

Maybe pre-calc wasn't going to be so bad.


	3. A One Woman Dream

By the time lunch rolled around, I was already exhausted. Macroeconomics was definitely going to be a challenge this year. The teacher just droned on and on about requirements and expectations. We didn't even do a stupid Name Introduction game; nor were there any hot guys in any of my classes, which was just as disappointing.  

 _Well, except for maybe that Dylan guy,_  I thought. I squeezed my eyes shut, not believing I just thought that.  

Suddenly, I felt my shoulder slam against someone and I went tumbling backward, my back slamming into a wall of lockers.  

"Oh, goodness, I'm so sorry," I quickly apologized to the guy I ran into. He stood in front of me, rubbing his shoulder.  

"It's okay, it was my fault," He gave me a soft smile, but it faltered when he caught my eye. "Uh, hi," he stammered as he stuck his hand out.  

I cocked my head to the side, curious. What was he doing, awkwardly introducing himself? I just decided to roll with it, taking his hand and shaking it.  

"Me and my friends, we couldn't help but-" The guy took his hand from mine, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That sounds weird..." he said to himself, but I could easily hear him.  

I pushed myself off of the lockers so I was standing fully upright. The guy in front of me was about the same height as me. He was as thin as a twig, hardly any meat on his bones. His shirt draped over his figure, his wispy black hair brushing just above his bold eyebrows. He had a thin face and slightly hollowed cheeks, but it didn't take away from his looks.  

"I'm sorry, I'm just- I'm not good at this," he stammered, his light brown eyes seemingly looking right through me.  

"Good at what?" I asked, curiosity taking over again.  

"Talking to girls," he mumbled. I let out a little giggle at that, seeing his cheeks and ears grow a little pink.  

"You're fine, but I've gotta get going. I'll talk to you later..." my voice trailed off, implying that he tell me his name.  

"Aron, my name's Aron," he blurted out, his eyes and face lighting up.  

"Well, see you around Aron," I called over my shoulder as I walked away, giving him a little wave.  

I weaved my way through the crowd, shaking off the awkward exchange I just had. I had made my way to the cafeteria, which was busy and full of people. Looking around the large room, I searched for Mari's familiar sleek, black hair she always had tied in a high ponytail. Sure enough, I saw her hair swishing side-to-side as she waded her way through the crowd. I hurried after her.  

Mari had somehow found an open table in the middle of the cafeteria. When I got there, she was already getting her lunch out.  

"Hey," Mari cooed, drawing out the 'y'.  

"Hey there," I replied in the same way. Mari smiled at me and patted a seat next to her, motioning for me to sit down.  

"So how was your morning?" she asked, taking a bite out of an apple. I rolled my eyes and groaned.  

"I already hate macro, Mr. Gardner is so boring."  

Mari practically guffawed at my misery, so I playfully stuck my tongue out at her.  

"Yeah, he is kind of the worst teacher here," she giggled.  

"How about you, how was your morning?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow at her.  

Her eyelashes fluttered and she leaned forward. "In my AP Literature class, there is this absolutely stunning guy and I couldn't take my eyes off of him the whole hour. God, he was amazing. And every time he spoke," Mari groaned in frustration. "His voice is music to my ears, Toby,"  

I giggled at her reaction. "Well, what did he look like?"  

Mari's eyes practically rolled back into her head. "Oh my god, where do I begin! His arms are just... They're buff but not too buff, so they're perfectly toned. And his calves were perfect too, even better when he stretched. And I just know he has a killer v-line, I just know it!" At this point, Mari was bouncing around in her seat. She then leaned in towards me and whispered, "But, Toby, none of that compares to his eyes. Oh, his eyes," Mari sighed.  

I scowled at her before saying, "Don't orgasm in the cafeteria, save that for later please,"  

"You don't understand! They were this beautiful deep blue color and they looked just- Just-" Mari stammered, searching for words. She gave up and simply sighed again, happily deflating in her seat.  

Mari's bright green eyes suddenly grew wide. She looked like she wanted to jump up from her chair and blend into it at the same time. I followed her gaze and saw what she was looking at. Walking towards us was the person Mari just described.  

"What do I do?" Mari begged. "Toby, what do I do, he's coming right towards us. Oh, god, what do I-" I kicked her shin underneath the table just before he reached us, shutting her up.  

Mari was right, he was toned in all the right places. I caught myself scanning his body, my eyes following his muscles. He hardly seemed to notice me.  

"Hey, Mary, right?" he asked, his voice smooth like rippling water.  

Mari swallowed, then sat up straight. "Oh, it's actually Mari, like Maria without the 'a,'" she corrected him. I could hear the slight quiver in her voice, but only because I've known her for so long. She did a good job of covering it.  

"Sorry, Mari," he dipped his head, then pointed at the chair to the other side of her. "Mind if I sit down?"  

Mari shook her head, "No, not at all,"  

He sat down, resting his left arm on the table and his right arm on the back of the chair. He gave Mari a smile that even melted me a little. I was sure Mari was crumbling inside right now.  

"You're... Johnny, right?" Mari stammered.  

He let out a laugh, tossing his head back. "No, but good guess. The name's George,"  

"George..." Mari whispered, then glanced back at him. "I think I like Johnny better," she joked, trying to lighten the mood and calm her nerves.  

George laughed again. "I think I do too, but sadly that's not me." George smiled and looked at Mari. I glanced at his eyes. Holy shit, Mari wasn't lying, his eyes were gorgeous.  

"So, Mari, I was wondering..." George glanced down at his knees and began twisting his fingers nervously. I thought I could see Mari's body began to shake. "I was wondering if you got the homework?" George lifted his head, an evil smirk on his face.  

Mari's body slumped, but she quickly perked up. "Um, yeah, I got the homework," She dug around in her backpack and pulled out a sheet of paper, handing it to George. His eyes scanned over the paper, and then he gave it back to her.  

"Thanks, Mari, I'll see you tomorrow," he gave her another heart-melting smile.  

Mari just simply nodded and smiled back. George pushed himself up from the chair and strutted away into the crowd.  

"What a tease," I mumbled.  

In reply, Mari slammed her head on the table. "That was the worst thing to ever happen to me," she grumbled.  

I patted her on the back. "There, there, Mari. It'll be okay,"  

She lifted her head and glared at me. I quickly scooted back in my chair. We both let out a laugh.  

The rest of the day rushed by, nothing was quite as bad as macroeconomics. At the end of the day, Mari and I had Photo together. We hardly paid any attention to the teacher and what she was saying, we just talked about her summer at camp and all the juicy gossip she heard, and possibly participated in. As soon as the bell rang to release us, the two of us bolted from class. I got my jacket and helmet from my locker. Giving a quick hug to Mari, we said good-bye to each other. I jogged out to my motorcycle, only to stop in my tracks. Someone was kneeling next to it, running their fingers along the tank.  

"Hey, what the hell do you want?" I angrily called, startling the person. He scooted backward and fell on his butt on the asphalt, looking at me like a deer in headlights.  

I practically stomped over to him, fear slowly growing in his eyes. "I said, what the hell do you want?" I gritted my teeth. I hated when people got close to my bike, especially when they touched it without my permission.  

The boy quickly stood up, brushing his hands off on his jeans. He dropped his eyes to the ground, shuffling his feet and saying, "I just, I saw it was a Yamaha, and one of my friends, he was interested, and-"  

I shoved past him and pulled my helmet on, shutting him up. I swung my leg over my bike, shoving the keys in the ignition. Before I turned it on, I turned to the boy, his eyes still wide.  

"No one _ever_ touches my bike, got it?" I ordered, fire burning in my eyes. He quickly nodded, swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. He turned on his heel and walked away, looking like he wanted to run. My anger subsided and I started the motorcycle. I pushed the visor down and was off, glad to finally go home.  

At least, go home for about half an hour. I hurried to my room and changed into my work clothes. I stuffed a quick snack in my face. Then, back on the bike and off to work.  

I worked at the local theater as a concessions person. It was a boring job, really not any better than McDonald's, but it paid better, and that was what mattered. Before starting my shift, I asked my manager if and when I could extend my hours. He told me weekends would be best, and I happily obliged.  

My shift was slow, as there were hardly any customers on a Monday afternoon. I saw a few families and people I recognized from school, but otherwise, there was almost no one.  

After work, it was back home. I almost tore off my work clothes and threw them in the hamper. Grabbing some spandex running shorts and an athletic tank top, I slipped them on. This was my favorite time of day. The sun was on the horizon, always making the sky a beautiful orange, turning all the buildings of LA into abstract works of art.  

I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and tied my running shoes. Then, I was out the door, ready to go.  

Besides riding my motorcycle, running was probably my favorite way to clear my mind. Even though every day I'd run past houses and people, broken beyond repair, I felt like I was putting myself back together. Weaving my way through the streets, I could block out everything happening in the world.  

Well, almost everything.  

About ten minutes into my run, I heard what sounded like a fight going on up ahead, but I decided to keep going. Fights were nothing new here. As long as you stayed out of them, you'd almost never get into one.  

I heard a shout, silence, and then a stick go flying past me inches in front of my nose. I stopped running and fell backward, scared out of mind at what just happened.  

Suddenly, two blurs went sprinting past me, both of them going too fast for my disoriented mind to make out.  

I slowly stood up, trying to figure out what happened. I looked to my left at the street where I saw the two blurs run to. Sure enough, I watched as two people were wrestling in the middle of the road. I closed my eyes and shook my head, attempting to make out who they were.  

"Toby?" I heard my name from behind me. I turned around and was faced by five guys, all staring at me. I yelled something and tumbled back on my butt.  

I rubbed my eyes, then opened them. No, I wasn't in a nightmare. Five guys were still standing in the middle of a driveway, all of them staring at me. The sounds of the two wrestling people in the street now seemed distant.  

Then it dawned on me. I squinted my eyes at the boys, then they grew wide.  

"Dylan? Jordon? Aron? George? Is that you?" I stuttered.  

Four of the five boys nodded and smiled. Dylan stepped forward and put a hand out. I took it and he pulled me up.  

"Shut up, Jorel, it's my turn!" someone shouted behind me.  

I glanced over my shoulder. One person had pinned the other down, both of their chests heaving. The person on the bottom let out a laugh.  

"Knock yourself out, Matty," he said playfully, handing what looked like the stick that flew past my face over to the guy on top of him.  

"Toby? Are you okay?" Dylan's voice rang in my ear, causing me to flinch and turn around.  

"I- I'm really confused," was all I managed to say. The five boys in front of me all laughed.  

 _Yeah, because that's going to help me figure out what the heck is going on._  I mentally yelled at them.  

"Do you want something to drink?" Dylan asked after he had calmed down. I scanned the area. Only the seven boys and I were here. Sweet, this didn't look suspicious at all.  

"Um, yeah, some water would be nice," I finally replied.  

Dylan motioned for me to follow him, which I did. I walked up the driveway towards a small house similar to my own. It was a two-story house with warped, dingy windows and the paint chipping off the siding. The wood was faded and the blue-gray concrete of the driveway was cracked. I walked towards their open garage. What was inside surprised me, to say the least. Multiple guitars sat out, both acoustic and electric, wires tangled around the ground, which was covered in multiple rugs and pieces of carpet. A drum set was up and some microphones were sitting out. Chairs ranging from beach chairs to dining chairs were strewn around the large garage. It was a cluttered mess, but it looked like these guys had it under control.  

"A band?" I asked more to myself than any of the guys, but one of them heard me.  

"Well, sort of," Aron answered, appearing beside me. "We're trying to, but we don't really have the time or energy-"  

"Or motivation," Dylan called over his shoulder, snickering, obviously listening to our conversation.  

"Yeah, that too," Aron said, sighing softly.  

Inside the garage, everyone seemed to hunker down in a seat that was made for them. Dylan tossed me a water bottle, which I just barely caught. I opened the cap and chugged half of it down, not really noticing how every guy was staring at me in silence.  

When I did, I awkwardly shifted from side to side. I glanced around the garage to meet everyone's eyes. Most of them looked at me curiously, their eyes transfixed on me. I caught a few of them looking me up and down, making my ears warm.  

"There's a lot of you," I finally mumbled. All seven of them laughed, an interesting melody that sounded quite good.  

"How about we introduce ourselves?" Jordon offered, and everyone murmured in agreement. "I'll start. I'm Jordon, which you already know. I'm a junior," Jordon says, his bright blue eyes sparkling in the light of the setting sun. He was slumped on the ground next to Dylan, a can of Mountain Dew dangling in his fingers.  

Dylan was next. He was sitting on the cooler, his elbows resting on his knees. "Dylan, the residential chick-magnet, junior," He smirked again. God, he needs to stop doing that.  

"I'm Aron, you hit me in the hall. I'm a senior," Aron said, his thin arms relaxing on the arms of the lawn chair he was sitting in. I gave him a soft smile, still feeling bad for that.  

Next was George. He stretched his legs out as he was sitting on the stairs to get into the house. I couldn't help but glance at his legs. Mari's description didn't do him justice. "I'm George. I thought I saw you at lunch, but I mainly know you from this morning, biker chick,"  

A laugh filled the garage. I met Dylan's eyes, knowing this was his doing. He was looking at me, still smirking.  

 _I really want to just wipe that right off his face._  I grumbled in my head.  

As the laughter died down, the next guy weakly waved at me. I squinted, recognizing him, but not quite able to place his face.  

"I'm Danny, and you scare the living shit out of me," he said, causing another uproar of laughter to ensue. That's when it dawned on me; he was the guy who was looking over my motorcycle at the end of the day. He had dark brown, silky hair, which was pushed to one side. His brown and gold eyes shimmered in the dying sunlight.  

"Don't worry, Danny's afraid of everything," Jordon pointed out, which gained a giggle from me.  

Sitting behind the drums was the guy I saw in the office earlier today. Sweat dripped off of his hair. He ran his fingers through his tight curls and gave me a grin. "Hey, I'm Matt, senior," He held a pair of drumsticks in one his hands. That must've been what was thrown in front of me.  

Finally was the last person. He sat on an amp, seemingly hiding behind his black bangs.  

"I'm Jorel, but you can call me J. I'm a junior,"  

Then he smiled at me. And I thought George's smile was warm. No, Jorel's was as bright and warm as the sun. I couldn't help but beam back at him.  

Now everyone's eyes were back at me, meaning it was time to introduce myself. "I'm Toby, though all of you probably know that. I'm a junior," I tried to give them all a little smile, which they all returned.  

Dylan scooted over on the top of the cooler, patting a spot next to him. I sat down next to him, mindlessly playing with the water bottle in my hands.  

"So what are you doing out here?" George asked, breaking the awkward silence that had settled over the garage.  

"I was running," I flatly answer. I watched as George rolled his eyes, not pleased with that reply.  

"Yeah, no shit, but why around here?" he pressed.  

I knit my eyebrows and glared at him. "Because I live here,"  

You could almost feel the tension building up in that garage. It felt like everyone was holding their breath.  

"Really?" Jorel asked. I just nodded, not exactly wanting to dive into my personal life when I only just met these guys. "To be perfectly honest, I wasn't expecting that," Jorel muttered, his eyes on his feet.  

I sighed and tugged on my ponytail, thinking of what to say next.  

"Yeah, well, it's whatever. It was nice meeting you all, but I've gotta start heading home," I say as I stand up. I toss the half-empty water bottle to Dylan. "Thanks for the water, Dylan,"  

He gave me a nice, small smile, which looked almost odd since I was so used to his signature smirk. I waved to everyone as I started walking out of the garage.  

"I'll see you all later!" I called over my shoulder as I once again broke into a run, faintly hearing them say their good-byes.  

I turned the corner of the driveway, getting back on the sidewalk, glad to be away from the tension-filled garage teeming with awkward boys. But a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach and a smile curling at my lips might say otherwise.


	4. The Mechanic

The rest of my night was spent on homework. Yes, it was the first day of school and I already had homework. 

Crawling into bed at the end of the night was a relieving feeling. I let my arms and legs sink into the mattress, mind whirring over what happened that day. I had gotten my bike fixed, officially got a nickname from the whole school, met Dylan and Jordon in pre- calc , witnessed Mari almost get asked out, and then met seven boys in the middle of the Los Angeles hood while on a run. I'd categorize that under "A Good Day." 

Something about those seven boys churned my stomach and made my skin crawl. Not necessarily in a bad way. It was the same feeling I felt when Rob took me to a deserted highway, telling me I could go as fast as I wanted. I pushed my bike to  over a hundred  that day, the wind screaming as it rushed past me, rattling my helmet and making my vision vibrate, leaving numbing goosebumps on my  bare  arms and legs. It was terrifying, yes, but it was an adrenaline rush that intoxicated me from the moment I first shifted the gears to the moment I screeched to a halt when I ran out of road. That was the feeling thinking about those boys brought me. 

White hot sunlight blinded me again as my mom opened the curtains to my room. 

"I need you to clean the house and do the laundry before school," my mom ordered. I just sat up in bed, waiting for my eyes to adjust, nodding in reply. I was used to having to do a multitude of chores at 6 am. My mom worked from 7 am to 8 pm every day, leaving me to doing all the work around the house. 

Yeah, my dad isn't here. He left about a year ago, and even though my mom and I were upset about it, we weren't too caught up on it. He wasn't a good person, he was never there for me and my mom. He would go out to the bars, get drunk, bang a bunch of random girls, then come home and yell at us for not doing things the way he wanted. No, the house was much better without him. 

Dragging myself from  the bed, I didn't bother changing. I could do that before heading to school. I gathered up the dirty laundry, tossing it into the washing machine. Starting it up, I heard my phone ring. I grabbed it from my room, checking the caller ID. It was Mari. Quickly answering, I put my phone between my ear and shoulder and went to the kitchen to clean some dishes. 

"Toby motherfucking Chase have you gotten any of my texts?" Mari angrily screeched. I grimaced at her loud voice. 

"No, I just got up. What is it?" 

"I need an outfit for today that would impress George," she huffed, sounding tired and exasperated. 

Holding down a laugh, I replied, "Just wear whatever, I'm sure he doesn't care." 

"But I want to impress him! There's always a way to a man's heart," Mari snapped. 

Sighing loudly as I dropped the dirty dishes into the soapy water in the sink, I groaned, "Mari, how would I know the way to George's heart? I've only seen him twice in my life," 

"Twice?" Mari questioned. 

Shit, I thought. I didn't tell her about meeting George and his friends yesterday. If I tell her I know where he hangs out, she might just go insane. 

I decided a little white lie wouldn't hurt Mari. 

"Yeah, I bumped into him on my run yesterday," I wasn't lying there. 

Mari exhaled, a little dismayed. "Oh, okay," She perked up and became her bubbly self again. "Okay, well I'm going to go with some jean booty shorts and that one black tank top that you think is nasty, sound good?" 

Getting a little fed up with the conversation, I sighed, agreeing. "Yeah, sounds great," 

"Thanks, Toby, see you in an hour!" Mari called, then she hung up, leaving the phone beeping in my ear. I tossed it onto the counter and finished up cleaning. 

I vacuumed the main floor of our house, finally glad to be done with morning chores. Changing into some school clothes was difficult because I've already worn my favorite outfit. I went with a pair of black Adidas sweatpants and a dark blue Nike men's muscle tee, a black sports bra underneath. Sue me, I mixed brands and shopped in the men's section. Riding my motorcycle was most comfortable when you weren't in skinny jeans and your boobs weren't flying all over the place. 

Straightening my hair took a half hour alone. When I had it straightened, I loosely fishtail-braided it, pleased with the way I looked. 

Before I left the house, I ate a quick Hot Pocket and swished back some water. Then, I was pulling on my jacket and helmet, driving my bike into the morning. 

Sitting in the LA morning rush hour traffic sucked, especially in the heat of the city. I found myself sweating under my helmet, sweat dripping into my eyes and rolling down my back. Thank goodness I used my 'Smoothing Shampoo' last night, otherwise my hair would be a fluffy wreck. 

After sitting at a stop light for a few minutes, the light finally turned green. I eased off on the clutch, letting the engine catch. Either Rob didn't do a good job  – which  has never happened  – or  my bike was junk, because the engine caught way too quickly, jolting me forward and almost throwing me off balance and into the car in front of me. Shit. I'd have to run over to Rob's after school today to get that checked. 

Arriving at school was just as entertaining as the day before. I gained the same reaction, which was just as amusing. 

Once I parked, I heard someone whistle. The euphoria of being the badass biker chick slipped away as I noticed I was being catcalled. I ignored whoever it was, shutting off my bike and putting the keys in my pocket. 

"Damn, Toby, it's even more badass up close," I heard someone behind me say. It was the same guy who catcalled me, I was sure of it. 

I pulled my helmet off my head, not really caring what my hair looked like at that moment. I held my helmet by the strap, spinning around. 

"You know what, I-" My words were cut short when I saw who it was. 

"What, you're  gonna  yell at the birthday boy?" Jordon asked me, his arms crossed across his chest. He wore a Los Angeles Lakers t-shirt and backward black snapback on his head, smashing down his light brown hair. 

Setting my helmet down on the seat of my motorcycle, I cocked my head to the side. "It's your birthday?" 

Jordon nodded, his pudgy cheeks squishing as he grinned. 

"How old are you now?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips and slightly leaning forward. 

"Seventeen," Jordon smirked, taking a few steps forward. 

I rolled my eyes and turned around. "Of course, you're older than me," 

Jordon's feet shuffled against the asphalt as he came into my field of view. "When's your birthday, biker chick?" 

I laughed, playfully flipping him the bird. "Shut up, Jordon, you know my name. And it's not until March," 

Jordon whistled, just like he had earlier. "Biker chick is still sixteen?" 

I groaned, but a smile was teasing at the corner of my lips. I may have only known Jordon a day, but the way we interacted could say otherwise. 

"Yes, I'm still sixteen. So, Mr. Seventeen Now, hands off," 

Jordon puts his hands up in defense and took a few steps back. "Hey, man, I'm not seventeen until 10:48, we got a few hours," He wiggled his eyebrows, making me scowl. 

"In your dreams, Jordon," I grabbed my helmet and began weaving through the parking lot to get to the school entrance. I could hear Jordon jogging after me. 

"How do you know that hasn't already been in my dreams?" he shouted after me. 

I turned around and started slowly walking backward. I threw my free hand up in the air out of exasperation. "You're sick," I called back. An evil grin settled over Jordon's face. 

Jordon jogged up to my side, so I turned back around. 

"Speaking of dreams, I think I had a nightmare that I didn't finish my  calc  homework last night," Jordon tapped his chin, pursing his lips, acting deep in thought. I raised an eyebrow at his antics. 

We had made it to the front doors. I pushed one open and held it for Jordon. Before he passed the threshold of the school, he dropped his hand to his side and met my eyes. The icy, bright blue color looked even more brilliant in the morning. 

"Yeah, that wasn't a dream, that really happened. Did you do it?" he asked. 

Rolling my eyes, I groaned and let go of the door, letting it slam on Jordon. Sadly, he slipped through before getting squashed.

I hiked my backpack up, changing my helmet over to my other arm. "Yeah, I finished it," I replied. 

Jordon hopped in front of me, making me stop in my tracks. "Mind if I have a little look?" 

I wrinkled my nose at him. "Why would I do that?" 

He batted his eyelids, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout. "It would be my birthday present," 

I shoved past him, grumbling, "Well, that's a shit present," 

Jordon tugged on the sleeve of my jacket as I continued walking through the hallway. "Please, Toby, the boys and I got, uh..." Jordon's voice faltered. 

"Got what?" I asked him. 

"Distracted?" Jordon asked more than answered. He nervously licked his lips, shoving his hands in the pockets of his shorts as he still shuffled along next to me. 

I knew I shouldn't press more, Jordon and the other guys weren't even my friends, to begin with. What they did didn't concern me. 

"Fine, you can see my damn homework," I caved in. Handing my helmet over to Jordon, I slung the backpack off my shoulder and pulled out last night's  calc  homework. Jordon gave me my helmet back, eagerly grabbing my homework. 

"Thank you, Toby!" he almost squealed. I pulled my backpack back over my shoulders, nodding. 

"It's whatever, just don't do anything to it in these next twenty minutes," 

Jordon widened his eyes, shaking his head. "I promise," He gave me a quick smile, then turned around and jogged off. What a weirdo. 

I stopped by my locker, dropping off the usual things. When I closed my locker door, I nearly screamed. Standing there was Aron. 

"Jesus, fuck, Aron!" I shouted at him, scared at the sudden senior's appearance. 

His face fell at my reaction. "I'm sorry, did I scare you?" 

I nodded, squeezing my eyes shut and focusing on bringing my heartbeat down to a normal level. 

"I'm really sorry, I just wanted to say it was cool seeing you yesterday," Aron mumbled, running his fingers through his hair. 

I swallowed hard, thinking of something to say. I finally settled with, "Yeah, it was nice to see guys too," 

"I also wanted to tell you that if anything goes wrong or you need a place to stay or anything, my house was where you were at yesterday. You can drop by anytime," Aron offered. 

"Thanks for thinking of me, Aron," I took a breath, "but why me? I mean, I've only known you guys a day, and you're already giving me permission to crash at your house whenever," I asked, curiosity pushing the words out of my mouth. 

Aron just shrugged. "I don't know, I guess you've left quite an impression on all of us." 

My heart skipped a beat. No one's ever said that about me. Usually, the impressions I leave on people is that I am a quiet girl, but also a snarky bitch. 

"Wow, thanks," I managed to say, still stunned at Aron's words. 

"Oh, and one more thing," Aron quickly said, snapping his fingers and pointing at me. I raised an eyebrow at him. "You might want to clear your Friday night," 

"What do you mean that I have-" 

The bell rang, cutting me off. Aron gave me a smile before brushing past me. 

I turned around and yelled, "I have work!" but he was already gone. 

_ Why do I have to clear my Friday night? What are these guys planning? _  I questioned myself. Obviously, I did not have the answers. 

I willed myself to go to pre- calc , thinking about the questions I'd ask Dylan and Jordon. Plopping down in my seat, I looked to my right to see Jordon scrawling in his notebook, my homework sitting next to him. 

"How's homework going for you?" I casually asked Jordon, pulling my materials out of my backpack. 

"Wonderful," Jordon mumbled. "Why does this birthday present have to be so poorly written?" 

My jaw dropped and I playfully slapped his arm. "Shut up! It's not that bad," 

Jordon raised his head, his eyes meeting mine. He raised an eyebrow at me as if he were saying,  _ Really? _

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Okay, it might be bad, but-" 

I was once again cut off mid-sentence, but not by the bell this time. Instead, a thundering voice rumbled the room. 

"Jordon Terrell, my man, happy birthday!" 

Dylan nearly tackled the smaller boy. Jordon just barely had enough time to stick his arms out to soften the blow. 

"Thanks," Jordon squeaked, out of breath from Dylan's bear-hug. 

"Dylan Alvarez, sit your ass down," the teacher yelled at him. Dylan let go of his friend and sighed. He hopped over his desk, sitting down with a grunt. 

The final bell rang, announcing the start of class. Jordon handed me back my homework, slightly crumpled thanks to Dylan. He nodded, silently thanking me for saving him from getting an F on his first assignment of the school year. 

After the teacher did roll call, I leaned back, hearing Dylan lean forward. 

"So, what's going down Friday night that I so desperately need to skip work for?" I whispered to him. 

"For real? You don't know what happens Friday?" Dylan's breath tickled the back of my neck. I slightly shook my head. 

"Oh, shit, Dill, she doesn't know," Jordon muttered. I scowled at the nickname he used for Dylan. 

"I thought you of all people would know," Dylan sighed, his hot breath once again leaving goosebumps on my skin. "What happens every Friday night in fall?" 

My eyes grew wide as it dawned on me. I squeezed my eyes shut, embarrassed. "Football," I muttered. 

"Yup," Dylan simply replied. "Be there or be lame biker chick," 

I sighed and turned around, but immediately regretted it. Dylan's hair was a wild mess like he just rolled out of bed. It curled and stuck up randomly, but almost looked styled that way. He wore a tight tank top, showing off his whole upper body. His arms were relaxing across his stomach. His chest was well defined, but his shoulders were what my eyes spent most of their time on. But the icing on top of the Dylan cake was a smirk plastered on his face. I opened my mouth to say something, but my heart jumped into my throat, leaving me without a witty comeback. 

Dylan's voice shocked me back into reality. "Like what you see?" 

"I..." was all I could say before my mouth went dry again. I turned towards the front of the classroom, feeling my cheeks grow red hot and hearing snickers come from Jordon and Dylan. 

Somehow, I managed to get through the rest of class, despite the constant whispering behind me. When the bell rang to release us from first hour, I sighed in relief. I shoved all my things in my backpack and stood up, starting to walk away until I felt a hand on my bare shoulder. Shit, so close. 

"Toby, seriously, you should come Friday, it's going to be an exciting game," Dylan told me. 

Unsure, I met his beautiful brown eyes. 

_ Wait, beautiful? What the hell, Toby! _  I mentally scolded myself. 

"I've never gone to a high school football game," I muttered. 

Dylan's hand dropped from my shoulder. I shuddered at the sudden lack of contact. 

"It would mean a lot to me if you could come," he nearly pleaded. 

"Dylan, I have work," I told him, feeling bad about saying that. 

Dylan sighed, hanging his head. "Oh, okay," He picked his head back up, meeting my eyes. "I'll try my best to catch a touchdown for you in your absence," He gave me a soft smile. 

_ Wait, he plays for the team? I mean, that would explain his body, but now you have to go for sure! _  I argued with myself. 

"I- I think I can ask off," I offered, making Dylan's face light up with happiness. 

"That's awesome, thank you!" He beamed at me. "Well, see you tomorrow, Toby," he said. We both walked out of the classroom and headed to our next class. 

A smile was on my face as I walked into my next class. Something about talking to Dylan made my whole body feel warm and tingly. Right before I got into the classroom, I accidentally shouldered someone who rushed past me. 

"Toby!" the person said. 

"Oh, god, Aron, I need to stop doing this," I blushed out of embarrassment. Aron shouldered his backpack as he gave me a smile. 

"So, Friday?" he quickly asked, looking antsy to go. I just nodded, remembering the look of happiness on Dylan's face. Aron  grinned  at me before rambling off, "Find us at lunch, we have a ton to talk about," He then turned and ran off to his class. The warning bell rang and I scurried into Physics. 

I sat through the rest of my classes until the final bell released me from my electrical engineering class to lunch. I quickly packed up my stuff and ran out to the cafeteria. Since I got there quicker than yesterday, there weren't as many people. I scanned the room, looking for one of the boys. That's when I noticed the familiar large, yet slim frame that was Dylan. I quickly followed him. I arrived at a table near the side of the cafeteria. Dylan sat down just before the other five guys at the table noticed me. 

_ Wait, six? Yesterday there were seven. _  I mentally analyzed, but before I could think about it more, someone yelled out. 

"Toby Chase, good to see you!" 

I glared at the source of the voice, only to be greeted with Jordon's devilish grin. 

"You too," I snapped back with a smile, gaining the attention of the others. 

"You're just in time for Prince  Asshat's  birthday celebration," Dylan smirked at his best friend. 

"Just because I'm really good at copying homework doesn't mean I should get the title of ' Asshat ', though  the  ' Prince '  part I don't mind too much," Jordon shot back, getting a good laugh from everyone, including myself. 

"Why'd Aron tell me to come here?" I cut straight to the point after we all calmed down. 

"Oh, about that," Dylan spoke up, digging into his backpack. Matt pounded on the table, imitating a drum roll and Dylan produced two tickets. 

"What?" I asked, confused. I took them from his hands and read them over. 

"Two tickets to the football game, duh," Dylan mocked in a higher voice than usual. 

I held a ticket in each hand, looking between the two, then at Dylan as if I were asking, _  What the hell am I supposed to do with two? _

George picked up on my silent question, answering, "For your friend, Mari," 

I opened my mouth, a little stunned, but closed it before anyone could notice. Of course, how could I forget my best friend? 

George leaned across the table as if he were about to tell me a secret despite the fact that the rest of the guys could still hear. 

"Also, tell her that I enjoyed her, well,  _ presentation _ ," George whispered. The rest of the boys whooped and hollered, Matt giving George a high-five, leaving me to roll my eyes. 

"Thank for the tickets, Dylan, we'll be there," I addressed him, ignoring George's statement. Turning on my heel, I pushed my way back through the cafeteria to where Mari and I sat the day before. I found her sitting at the table, a sandwich in one hand, her phone in the other. When I sat down, I let my backpack drop to the floor, the noise alerting Mari to my presence. 

"Hey, where have you been?" Mari asked, setting her phone down. 

I held the tickets up, displaying them to her. "I got us two tickets to the Sheik football game this Friday," 

Mari simply looked at me with a straight face, but she slowly pushed her eyebrows together and squinted her eyes. "Since when does Toby Chase, the girl who can't stand high school sports, especially the varsity football team, want to go to a game?" 

My heart thudded against my ribcage. Should I tell her about the guys yet? I wanted to, but something caught me. Instead, I blurted out, "This really cute wide receiver wanted me to watch him play," 

Mari's face lit up at that. "Aww, little Miss Independent has a crush" she cooed. 

I rolled my eyes and tossed a ticket at her. "No, I don't have a crush, he just made me promise," 

Taking the ticket and putting it in her backpack, Mari nodded and said, "Okay, okay, whatever you say. Should be a fun night," 

I breathed a sigh of relief that Mari agreed to go with me. She was right though, I've never gone to a high school football game. Sure, I've watched plenty of football, USC and the Raiders being personal favorites, but I couldn't stand the thought of high school  football. Boneheaded jocks slamming into each other only to get the attention of a girl or scholarship? I'll pass. 

"Oh, one more thing I almost forgot," I remembered before getting my own lunch. 

"Yeah, what is it?" Mari questioned. 

I smiled as I said, "George says he liked your "presentation,"" 

Mari blushed like crazy, burying her face in her hands. "Oh my god," she mumbled, her voice muffled. She picked her head up to meet my grinning face. "He's talking about how we had to read an excerpt from a book and I dropped mine and had to pick it up right in front of him. But it was all an accident, I swear!" Mari cried out. 

"Sure it was," I mocked her embarrassment. "Why else would you be wearing that outfit today?" 

Mari hit my arm, telling me to shut up, which I did. 

"How do you even know that he said that?" she asked after I was finished making fun of her happy accident. 

"Bumped into him while buying tickets," I swiftly answered. 

Mari's eyes grew wide. "Wait, does that mean he'll also be at the game?" 

I shrugged. "Maybe, I don't know," Which was true, I didn't know if George or any of the others were going, though they most likely were. 

Mari and I hardly diverged from the topic of George the rest of lunch. She was desperately hoping he would make an appearance so she could talk to him in a more social setting. I just told her to grow a pair and confront him the next day. That's when the bell rang, giving us a few minutes to clean up and scurry to our next class. 

The rest of the school day cruised by fairly smoothly. The only thing Mari could talk about in photography was George again, which was simultaneously sweet and creepy. As soon as we were released from school, I almost ran to my bike, wanting to get over to Rob's as quickly as possible. He always took breaks at four, and I'd prefer to catch him before that. I hopped on my bike and head out of the school parking lot.  

When I arrived at  _ Rob's Automotive Repairs _ , I was a little surprised to see the warehouse was almost silent, Rob wasn't working, nor were there any customers. I shut my bike off and pushed it into the warehouse. Still, no sign of Rob, or anyone for that matter. I put the kickstand down, putting my helmet on my handlebars. I walked over to Rob's office, checking behind his desk. Nothing, not even piles of paper and food were sitting out. 

"He's on break early," I heard someone say, making me jump and whirl around. 

Standing in front of me was a shirtless teenager, grease and grime covering his bare chest. He wasn't sculpted, but he wasn't out of shape either, making him still very tasteful to look at. Despite his attractive body, my eyes were drawn to his face, which I recognized immediately. 

" Jorel ?" 

He nodded, smiling. Holy shit, his smile. I could feel my knees grow a little weak, but I quickly composed myself. 

"Were you here yesterday?" I asked, remembering seeing someone similar the day before working on a motorcycle. 

Jorel  swung a shirt over his shoulder and wiped his hands off on his jeans. "I'm here almost every day, I work here." 

"But Rob never has  young  workers, at least that I remember," I pressed, confused. 

Jorel  shrugged, leaning against the door frame of Rob's office, crossing his arms. "He only hired me a week or two ago. I'm just doing odd jobs for him, filling in when he's on break." 

"But, still, why'd he hire you?" 

"He's old as hell, Toby, you should know that,"  Jorel  smiled jokingly, turning from me and headed back out into the warehouse. I rolled my eyes and followed him. 

"He's not that old, only in his mid-fifties," I called after  Jorel , who was now standing by my Yamaha. 

"That's old as hell, Chase," He waved his hand, letting go of the subject. "Whatever, just tell me what's up," 

I walked over and put my hands on the grips, not really wanting  Jorel  to touch the equivalent of my newborn child. 

"The clutch is fucked up again, catching too quickly. And no, it's not me letting go, it's slipping on its own." I replied. 

"Told you Rob's getting old,"  Jorel  mumbled, a smile teasing the corners of his lips. "I'll tighten it again and then you should be good to go," 

As he got to work on that, I dug around in my backpack, getting out some cash. "How much is it?" Before I could even meet  Jorel's  eyes, he was done. 

"Free of charge," he replied. "Anything for the biker chick's ride," 

"Thanks," I groaned at the nickname but smiled at his offer. "But you still deserve a little bit," I took a five dollar bill and placed it in his palm. Before he could protest, my helmet was on and my engine was revving. 

" Jorel , one last question," I yelled over the bike. He stuffed the money in his pocket, meeting my eyes. "Why weren't you at school today?" 

I immediately noticed I had hit a soft spot. His usually sparkling eyes and the warm smile felt cold and filled with sadness. It was the same look I gave to people when they asked me questions a little too personal. 

"Oh god, I'm really sorry, it's none of my business, you don't have to-" 

Jorel  simply shook his head and shooed me away. With a heavy feeling in my heart, I released the clutch, tugged the throttle, and flew through the streets. The only thing on my mind was  Jorel's  face when I asked him that question and the persistent feeling that I wanted to make sure it would never happen again.


	5. A Game Two Can Play

Excitement for the Friday night lights was building throughout the school. The anticipation was intoxicating, drawing me into multiple conversations about the upcoming game. It was supposed to be big. It wasn't postseason-tournament big, but more along the lines of school rivalry big. Student tickets were being bought faster than gum off of the school store's shelves. The amount of tension and hype this week held was insane. It felt like the whole school was holding its breath, only to have it come screaming out in the stands. 

Mari, however, was a little preoccupied during photography class that Thursday afternoon, a little more than 24 hours from game time. 

"So he likes slutty, but he likes smart. I can do both! No, who am I kidding, I can't pull off both, I can hardly do one or the other!" 

I hit the back of Mari's head with my notebook. "Will you shut up?" I seethed, attempting to take notes on the art of composition while listening to Mari's ramblings. 

Mari pouted, "This man is my future, I can feel it. Didn't you say you'll do anything to help me achieve my dreams?" 

"Yes, I did," I grunted before adding, "but I want to focus on mine right now, which means passing this class, and you're not helping with that!" 

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes glaring at the board. After a few seconds of silence except for the teacher's droning, I muttered, "I'm sure he prefers smart over slutty," Mari grinned but kept her attention forward. It seemed like she didn't move at all until the bell rang, releasing us from school. 

I said my good-byes to Mari and bolted to my locker, grabbing my things. As I ran out to the parking lot, I pulled on my helmet and jacket. As soon as I was on my bike, I sped off to work. I took extra hours that night because I asked for Friday off. Once I arrived at the theater, I quickly changed into my work uniform. I slid behind the concessions counter, preparing for a long day of work. 

As the first initial flood of people came in, I didn't recognize anyone. I just served their food and rang up their totals. After a family of three handed me their cash, I turned around to refill the popcorn machine that was getting low. I was being extra careful not to burn myself, avoiding the especially hot pieces of metal. 

"Toby Chase," I heard someone say, making me jump and nearly slam my whole arm against the popcorn machine. 

I composed myself, turning around while saying, "Hello, how may I help you?" 

I was met with Aron's grinning face leaning over the counter, his elbows resting on the candy display case. He was wearing a tank top that exposed his tanned, skinny arms. His hair was smashed under a baseball cap. 

"Aron?" I asked, unsure if I was seeing correctly. I almost never saw people from school here, and if they did show up, they were with someone more local. 

"My, my, Toby Chase, this is the last place I'd expect you," his almost childish tone rung in my ears. 

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, shifting my weight to one side and squinting my eyes at the small boy. 

Aron shrugged, adjusting his hat nervously. His previously confident and cool composure cracked. "I guess it's just taking me a while to get used to the fact that you, Toby Chase, live in Inglewood," 

I was slightly taken aback by his remark but didn't show it. "Yeah, I live here, got an issue with that?" 

Aron leaned even further forward across the counter, his sweet smelling breath tickling my nose as he said, "Yeah, I got an issue with it. The biker chick who's actually got some fashion sense and has straight A's lives in the LA hood. It doesn't make sense," 

I could feel my skin boil and my heartbeat thudding against my ribs like a poorly oiled engine. My mind switched to the defensive. 

"My life is of my own concern, thank you very much. Now, what do you want?" 

Aron pushed himself off the counter, putting his hands up defensively. "I'm sorry to pry, you just got me curious. I'll have a large soda," 

Aron fished into his pockets, taking out a few bills. He paid for his soda and waved good-bye as he sauntered off to his movie. The rest of the afternoon, all I could think about was how I was going to answer that question because someone was going to ask me again. If not Aron, one of the other guys. Before I knew it, the clock struck 9 pm, releasing me from my shift. Putting my jacket on over my uniform, I didn't even worry about changing, I just wanted to get home as soon as possible. 

I got home, flipping all the lights on. I guess my mom wasn't home yet. I grabbed some leftover pasta dish from the fridge and reheated it. I got my homework out and began working as I shoved the  noodly  goodness in my mouth. 

My mind kept wandering off, flickering between memories of my father and thoughts of Dylan and Jorel. It was such an odd mix of emotions smashing into each other in my mind. The memories of my dad could range from the happiest days we shared together, to the crushing reality of his terrible presence in my life. Thinking of him brought happiness sapped with sadness and a main course of anger. Contrasting that were the thoughts of Dylan and Jorel. Two men I felt a connection with almost as soon as we made eye contact. But they were so different than Mari, the only other close friend I've had. Thinking of the possibilities the boys could bring frightened me more than it should ’ve , but also left me with a buzz of excitement. My head pounded to the frantic beating of my heart as this conglomerate of emotions sloshed through me. 

I was so lost in my own head that when my mom opened the door, I jumped out of my seat, accidentally hurling my pencil over my shoulder. 

"Hey, Toby, how are you, darling?" my mother sighed, her back hunched and eyelids heavy. 

"I'm wonderful, Mom, but you look exhausted." 

My mother merely nodded, slowly blinking. "I will definitely be heading to bed a soon as I eat something," 

Offering that she also eat some pasta, my mother obliged, heating up a serving of her own. 

"How's Mari been?" she groggily asked, standing in the middle of the kitchen. 

"She's great too," I assured her. I did want to return to working on my homework. 

My mother grabbed her bowl as soon as it was done. She gave me a kiss on the crown of my head, then began up the stairs to her bedroom. I quickly ran and picked up my pencil then sat back down. Halfway up the stairs, she stopped and turned to me. 

"Did you run today?" 

I shook my head, tapping my pencil on my textbook to an unknown beat. 

"Work?" my mother asked, her voice hardly traveling through the air between us. I nodded. 

With a grunt, my mother stepped up the few remaining stairs. I listened to her footsteps fade as if she were walking to heaven. 

My eyes scanned around the first floor of my house. The open kitchen and dining room along with the living room gave our first floor the feeling that it was much larger than it actually was. The oddly stained cupboards and mismatched carpet really drove home Aron's remark. 

_ What the hell am I doing here? _

I shook the thought away, as I knew why, and didn't want to remember how I got here. Pencil in hand, I continued doing my homework until my eyelids felt like sheets of metal and the printed words on the page swam around in a gray soup of exhaustion. I dragged myself upstairs and collapsed into my bed, my hair tangling around my face. The moment I pulled my blankets over my numbed body, my mind slipped into unconsciousness. 

My screaming alarm, the white lights, a delightful smell of bacon, and uncontainable excitement filled my body as I woke. I blinked a few times, letting my eyes adjust to the morning light penetrating my room, giving a softer look to my usually ragged and dull carpeted floor. I pushed my hair out of my face as I sat up, letting the blankets fall off my legs I knew my auburn hair simmered in this light, glowing like a halo around my slack face. I guess I can only get one or the other, a nice face or nice hair. 

I let my nose lead me from my room and down into the kitchen. Grinning, I said, "Morning, Mom, what are you making?" 

My mom turned around, her brown hair messily thrown into a bun. "Good morning, and I just so happen to be making your favorite," 

I greedily reached out, wanting the delicious food. Instead, my mom wagged her finger, clicking her tongue. 

"Go for a run, you didn't at all yesterday. Plus, it's absolutely gorgeous out!" 

I groaned and childishly stomped my foot, even though I fully knew she was right. I hurried upstairs to change, gave a little wave to my mom, then hit the road. 

It was beautiful. The California heat was still wavering over the cracked concrete roads and seemingly lifeless households. The hum of traffic forever hung in the distance, like a swarm of insects buzzing through the night. The only other sounds reverberating through the neighborhood was the slapping of my feet and soft songs of the morning birds, chirping a thousand different tunes. The fresh air filled my lungs as I took deep, steady breaths, thought I could taste the poisonous smog and metal of cars and guns. 

I let my body lead me through my run until I decided it was time to turn around. As I ran down a street, I noticed I was somewhere familiar. I looked to my left, and standing tall and proud was Aron's house. The sunlight blotched out the windows and turned the walls into watercolor paintings. But what caught my eye the most was the car idling in Aron's driveway. I simply assumed it was a carpool to school and continued on pace until I returned home. 

The moment I stepped into the house, I attacked the bacon, shoveling the delicious meat into my mouth. With my mouth full, I thanked my mom, then headed upstairs to get ready. It was finally Friday, which meant the football game. I went with a dark pair of jean short shorts and a Raiders Super Bowl Champions crewneck. I combed my hair thoroughly, putting it into a messy bun like the first day of school. I skipped downstairs, grabbed my necessary items for the day, then drove to school. 

I parked my bike and head ed  into the school. I stopped by my locker to drop off my stuff. I was surprised I hadn't seen Mari or Jordon yet, or really anyone I knew. When the bell rang, I headed to pre-calc. Already sitting in their seats were Jordon and Dylan. I smiled as I walked into the classroom. 

"Hey, biker chick, nice shirt," Jordon greeted me, drawing out all his vowels. 

I glanced down. "Oh, yeah, thanks," I replied nonchalantly, though I already knew I was impressing them. 

"How about  Carr's  interception last week?" Jordon raised an eyebrow. He was testing me. I held down a laugh. 

"I mean, it was to be expected. Hudson just couldn't hold the line for him, so  Carr  was forced to scramble. Despite how fast he is, some of those damn Seahawk linemen are fast as hell too. You put  Carr  under pressure like that, some stupid shit is bound to happen," 

Jordon's eyes widened at my response. I smirked, winked at him, then turned to the front of the classroom. Got him. 

As the teacher began the lesson, I heard Dylan mutter something to Jordon, but not quiet enough. 

"Shit, she's good," 

I slapped my hand over my mouth, suppressing a fit of laughter. Dylan must've heard me because he tugged at my bun, pulling a piece of hair out of place. Biting my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling, I whirled around to see Dylan leaning forward, making us almost nose to nose. His eyes were trained right on me, his mouth slightly parted in surprise. His hand was still hovering in the air beside my head. He wore his football jersey, which was an obnoxiously bright crimson color. A large, white 33 was printed on his jersey. His biceps were perfectly on display, whether he knew it or not. I'm sure he did. 

"Don't touch me, my hair, or my bike. Those are my rules. Got it?" I tried to say seriously, but I was still laughing inside at Dylan's initial remark. 

Dylan responded by snickering, then covering his face with his hands and leaning back in his seat. Great, now he was giggling too. 

"Glad to see you too, Toby," Dylan's voice was muffled as he spoke through his hands. 

I put my hair back up, smiling at him. "I'm excited for tonight," 

Dylan took his hands away from his face and put them on his desk. "You better be, I'm  gonna  be playing," 

"Are you doing anything after the game?" Jordon piped up, making me turn my body the other way. 

I shook my head. "No, I don't think so, why?" 

Jordon and Dylan exchanged looks, grinning. 

"Party at Aron's!" they yelled out together. 

"Mr. Terrell, Mr. Alvarez!" the teacher shouted back at us. I shrank down in my seat, not wanting the teacher's glare to land on me. The three of us remained silent until the bell rang, ending the class. I stuffed my  things  in to  my backpack and swung it over my shoulder. As I started to walk out of the classroom, an arm was thrown around my shoulder. I looked to my right to see Dylan smiling down at me. 

"So we'll see you at the party, Chase?" 

I playfully shoved him away. "No duh, I'll be there, why would I ever want to miss out a party with Mr. Alvarez," 

Dylan rolled his eyes before his signature smirk took over his face. He took one final grab at my bun, then turned and ran down the hallway yelling, "Later, Toby!" 

I smiled to myself as I fixed my hair and headed to my next class. 

The morning was passing at a painfully slow crawl. I was mainly excited to go to the game to see Dylan, but now the party too? I was more than pumped. 

Once lunch arrived, I dashed to the cafeteria and snagged our usual table. As I was getting my food, I felt someone nearly tackle me from behind, wrapping their arms around my neck. 

"Toby!" Mari's shrill voice yelled right in my ear. I grabbed her arms and pried them off of my neck. 

"Holy fuck, Mari, you scared the shit out of me," I replied, yanking her around so she was in front of me. 

"Sorry, I'm just so happy to see you. And happy Friday!" Mari jumped on me again, hugging me and nearly sending me backward. 

I patted her on the back, laughing, "It definitely is a happy Friday," 

Mari pulled away from her hug and grabbed my lunch bag from my hand. "You need to tell me about this wide receiver guy that wanted you to go to the game!" 

I rolled my eyes, feeling my cheeks growing hot. Here we go. 

Mari dragged me back to our table. She stared at me as I took out my food, taking a few bites into my sandwich. 

"Well?" she finally spoke up. I raised an eyebrow at her. She returned the gesture. 

I put my sandwich down and sighed. "I don't know, ask me something," 

Mari scratched her nose, meaning she was deep in thought. Her eyes lit up as she asked, "What does he look like?" 

"I mean, he's tall, like six feet at least. He's got this messy hair, kind of shaggy, does that little  flippy  thing at the end," I could feel myself smile and my stomach grow warm. I mentally scolded myself. Why the heck was I reacting like this? I didn't like him like that. 

Mari was just staring at me, her smile spread ear to ear. "Junior?" 

I nodded. "Yeah, he's a junior," 

Mari's grin somehow got even wider, though I was unsure how that was physically possible. "Have you had a conversation with him yet?" Again, I nodded. "How'd it go?" Mari squealed. 

I shrugged, remembering how Dylan and I have talked every day since the first day of school during pre-calc. "He's got this deep voice, but it's not too deep. It's really smooth and kind of relaxing," I laughed to myself. "I feel like he'd be good at audio books," 

Mari laughed too but quickly shut herself up. "But, like, personality-wise, how is he?" 

I licked my lips, then took a bite from my sandwich to buy myself some more time to think of an answer. Until now, I thought of all seven guys as this one large personality. They were all funny as hell, and they weren't afraid to speak their minds. They were always searching for fun, even if that meant attracting trouble. But Dylan alone? I wasn't sure. He was always kind of packaged with Jordon. 

"He's smart, even though he doesn't want to admit it. He kind of has a bit of an ego, but he doesn't let it take him over. Plus, he's funny as fuck. He tries to make any situation fun and makes you feel really relaxed and laid back," I finally answered, picking my words carefully. 

"Sounds like the man for you," Mari cooed. 

I playfully shoved her before groaning, "I don't like him, I'm not even really friends with him." 

Mari just shook her head and started digging into her lunch. "You better introduce me tonight, though," 

My eyes grew wide as soon as I remembered what Jordon and Dylan had told me that morning. "Oh, Mari, another thing. The wide receiver invited me to a party after the game. Want to come?" 

Mari rolled her eyes. "Do you even have to ask me? You know me and parties," 

I laughed at her answer. Mari was a bit of a party animal. If there was a party, whether it was thrown by freshman or college students, she would be there. 

Lunch ended, leaving me with only three periods until game time. Two of those three zipped by. The hardest hour to get through was Photo. 

I walked into Photo, looking forward to a ridiculously easy class before the game. I sat down in my usual seat near the back of the class, waiting for Mari to come in. Many other students flooded into the classroom, and finally, Mari took her spot. 

"Just a few more hours!" Mari said excitedly. 

The final bell rang and everyone settled into their seats, preparing for another boring lecture day. The teacher stood in front of the class, taking attendance. When she was done, she addressed the class, "Students, we have a new person in the class. Everyone, say hello to Jordon Terrell." 

Jordon stood up and smiled at the class. His eyes drifted around the classroom before landing on me. Great, now Jordon could torture me for two periods of the day.


	6. Meet Me at Midnight

"So, Mari, do you lean more towards chocolate or vanilla? And I  ain't  talking flavors," 

My plan to murder Jordon Terrell was well underway in my mind as he asked Mari yet another question. The moment he made eye contact with me, he came scampering to the back of the room and sat right between Mari and I. He supposedly wanted to learn about the legendary Mari Davidson, the up-and-coming Hollywood star. In other words, he was looking for more excuses to annoy the crap out of me, which he did well. The worst part? Mari was playing along. 

"Well, I prefer vanilla, though I find myself dabbling in the chocolate occasionally," 

"Would you rather be driver or passenger?" Jordon asked. 

"What kind of ride?" Mari whispered a reply. 

My gag reflex had no rest today. 

"How about a cross-country road trip?" Jordon wiggled his eyebrows. 

"Oh, one-hundred percent passenger," Mari scoffed. "I wouldn't have the endurance to drive for that long, though Toby might," 

Oh, no, she did not just mention me in their sick 20 Questions game. 

"I am not a part of this," I hissed. 

Mari and Jordon snickered. I don't know whether they were bonding over these gross questions or their mutual satisfaction of making me as uncomfortable as possible. 

"So, Jordon, how do you know Toby?" Mari asked, making my ear perk up. 

"We have pre- calc  together. She's usually a lot more chill in the morning," he answered. 

"I'm right here!" I almost yelled. 

"Oh, sorry," Jordon apologized and turned to me. He cleared his throat and said, "You're usually a lot more chill in the morning." 

I rolled my eyes as I cracked a smile. Typical Jordon. 

"Maybe because you're not creepily asking my best friend weird sexual questions in the morning," I playfully shot back, pointing at him with my pencil. 

Jordon pantomimed being shocked. "You're saying I'm not your best friend?" he gasped. 

"Not right now, no," I leaned closer to him and whispered in his ear, "though I can tell you how to be." 

Jordon's eyes grew wide, his mouth forming an 'o'. "What is it?" he pressed. 

"Don't ask my best friend weird sexual questions, then you can be my best friend." 

Jordon groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know, Toby, I'm not sure I can do that, that's asking a lot from me," 

I shrugged. "Well, there's no way I can help you, Jordon," 

There was a moment of silence. Jordon and I stared at each other. Suddenly, we both exploded into laughter, earning a solid scolding from the teacher. Only minutes later, the bell rang. I packed my stuff up as the rest of the class rushed out the door. Mari, Jordon and I were now the only three people in the classroom besides the teacher. 

"May I hug the infamous biker chick before her departure?" I heard Jordon ask, his voice sounding loud after whispering the whole hour. I turned to meet his pudgy, smiling face, his ice-blue eyes looking softer than usual. 

"Fine," I mumbled, immediately being pulled into Jordon's warm arms. The smell of his cologne attacked my nose, almost making me dizzy. 

"Here's to the first week of friendship," he almost sang in my ear. He pulled away, gave me a cocky smile and called, "And here's to a year of weird sexual questions. Catch you later, Toby!" over his shoulder as he practically skipped out of the classroom. 

I heard my heart beat a few times before Mari broke the awkward silence Jordon left us in. 

"Well, he's an interesting guy," 

I groaned as I began the miserable walk from the room and down the hallway. "That's the least you could say. He makes pre- calc  bearable, but extremely unbearable at the same time." 

Mari scratched her nose while saying, "Isn't that how you describe me?" 

That's when I realized it. Jordon was destined to be my next best friend. But, somewhere deep down, I really didn't mind that. In fact, the idea left me with feelings of excitement and adrenaline, the feeling of electricity running beneath my skin. 

"Yeah, it is," is all I said to Mari's question. She shrugged as we continued walking. 

Mari and I left the building and crossed Sunset Boulevard, heading to the nearby Chick-Fil-A. When I used to live around here, I would go to Chick-Fil-A at least once a week with Mari. But since I moved a year ago, it's simply become a special occasion. 

The restaurant was packed with other students from school, eating food and relaxing with friends before the game. Mari wandered off to grab us a table as I got in line to order. This was our system. It hasn't changed in years. I was mainly hoping Mari could find our routine table. Once I got to a register, I ordered a No. 1 with a small chocolate milkshake for myself and a No. 5 with a large Coke for Mari. 

I remembered when Mari and I could just walk in, wave to the cashier, and sit down at our table and our food would be out in a minute. That was how often our visits were. That was also when I lived in Hollywood and didn't have issues of being unable to afford meals. My dad just had to be his usual self and ruin our lives by running off- 

"Ma'am?" the cashier asked, snapping me out of my daydream-gone-nightmare. "Your number," 

I mumbled an apology snatching my number and wandering off to find Mari. Thankfully, she somehow got our usual spot. It was a table for two in the exact middle of the whole place. After school, it was the best place to pick up on all the gossip. This was when I learned Henry Conway liked me in ninth grade and  I s hot him down right in the middle of the Chick-Fil-A. 

Sitting down in my spot with my back to the registers, I felt my body and mind relax, all the stress from the first week of school spilled out and was hurried out the door. I sat there for a few seconds just enjoying the tranquil feeling. 

Mari was the first to speak, "It's good to be back here," 

"It's definitely been too long," I replied disdainfully. I shook away the feelings of nostalgia, deciding it was best to indulge in the here and now. 

"How's the college application game going?" I asked my best friend. 

She leaned back in her seat, exhaling loudly. "I sent in my application for NYU and Yale while at camp, which helped a lot because my coaches were right there. I just want to send applications to Northwestern and San Diego too, but it's been difficult to get around to it. I've been feeling quite," Mari paused to think of a word, "uninspired lately, you know?" 

I shook my head. "I can't act for shit, you know this." 

Mari laughed, probably sifting through memories of my feeble attempts at the art. "Very true, but where you plan on going?" 

I mindlessly grabbed for the number, twirling it between my fingers. "I haven't really had the time or energy to research. At this point, I'm not sure if I'll go to college," 

Mari's eyes grew wide. "That's nonsense! Both your parents went to college, you can't let them down. And just because your dad-" 

"Number fifty-three, we have a No. 1 with a small chocolate shake and a No. 5 with a large Coke, will that be all?" 

Mari's mouth was still open after getting cut-off mid-sentence by the arrival of our food. 

"No, that's everything, thank you," I quickly answered, giving the worker a smile. 

Mari took her food and drink. "I'm- I'm sorry," she mumbled. 

I sighed, taking out my chicken sandwich. "It's whatever, Mari, I'm over him." I took a bite of the sandwich, savoring the delicious taste. "And you understand my situation. I physically can't go to school at this rate." 

Mari solemnly nodded. Silence fell upon us as the buzz of the people around us filled our ears. Mari tapped her fingers on the table getting my attention. She pointed to her lips, then motioned to three boys sitting together to my left. It was time to read lips again. I was rusty, but I did pick up on a few keywords: "biker", "chick", and "football". I turned back to meet Mari's eyes. 

"It's official, shit's going down tonight. If not at the game, then at that party. You're  gonna  die, Toby! Rest in peace." Mari clasped her hands together as if she were in prayer. 

"I'm not going to die," I scowled. "But you're not wrong, I feel like something is going to happen tonight." 

Mari took a long sip of Coke. "I'm sensing a lot of bad stuff, but not to us," 

Surprisingly, I was getting the same feeling. I shook it off and wrinkled my nose. 

"Who knows what the hell is going to happen tonight?" 

Mari shrugged. "But I hope it involves George," she sighed, batting her eyelashes. 

My face contorted into disgust. "Oh, gross, Mari. Hop off him for just a little bit," 

Mari frowned, though I could tell it wasn't real. "Every day he keeps getting better and better. We keep talking more and more. I just hope he asks me to Homecoming," 

"Mari, that's not  for like another month , don't worry about it," I assured her, digging into my waffle fries. 

"But we could make Homecoming Court!" she playfully cried. 

I rolled my eyes. "We both know that neither of us is making Homecoming Court, right?" 

Mari stuck out her bottom lip and pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. She cracked a smile, breaking her whole facade. "Yeah, you're totally right. I really don't care, honestly." Silence. One breath. Two breaths. "Okay, fine, I really want George to ask me, I just really feel something between the two of us." 

"Like some bed sheets?" 

Mari gasped and reached across the table, swatting at me. "Toby Chase, no asking me sexual questions, remember?" 

We laughed together in the middle of that Chick-Fil-A. Mari and I have been friends since kindergarten, which is over ten years now. I'm still in awe of how our friendship is still as strong as it was when we were younger. Whenever my parents would fight, I would simply run down a few blocks and be at Mari's house. Of course, I've had other friends in my lifetime, but none could ever compare to the bond Mari and I had. 

We wasted our time in the restaurant. When we saw a few upperclassmen trickle from the establishment, we decided it was time to head back too. Mari and I followed a group of juniors back across Sunset, returning to Hollywood High School grounds. We headed towards the football field where a small line was forming at the gate. 

"Despite how much I despise this," Mari spoke up, "I'm sure going to miss it." 

I shushed Mari. "Stop it! You have a whole year in front of you, don't start getting all Sentimental Senior on me." 

Once we reached the front of the line, our IDs and tickets were checked and then we were clear to enter. 

"This is probably going to be my last Sheik game," Mari sighed. 

I lightly nudged her side with my elbow. "Not unless I get asked again." That brought a grin to Mari's face. 

"Mari!" I heard a high-pitched voice scream from the stands. We looked up at the towering metal bleachers, finding two senior girls waving at us. 

Mari groaned. "Camp friends, I'm sorry. Find a nice spot. Not too much in the fray, but not in freshman territory." I nodded, acknowledging her request as she jogged up the steps. I slowly followed after her, checking each row of the student's section. About five rows up, I filed in and checked the view. Not bad spots for a shitty high school game. I glanced at the scoreboard. About half an hour until kickoff. Wonderful. 

I watched the seconds tick down when suddenly someone jumped next to me. I leaped to the side, nearly slamming into the person on my right. 

"Good spot," Mari observed. 

"And a great heart attack," I muttered, readjusting my sweater. "So what did they want?" 

Mari shrugged. "They just wanted me to do  _ The Masque of the Red Death _ , even though I promised I would save my energy for  _ Argonautika _ ." 

"I mean, you're an actor," I pointed out. 

"Yeah, an actor with a limit. I just got out of camp, I think I deserve a little bit of a break." Mari argued. 

I couldn't say anything back as I heard cheering coming from the front of the stands. The Sheik varsity football team was now taking the field. The large group of seniors in front of us began to shout the school song, so Mari and I joined in as the players trotted around the field. 

"We’re loyal to you Hollywood! We’re crimson and white, Hollywood! We’ll back you to stand, against the best in the land. For we know you have sand, Hollywood! 

"Then win for us now, Hollywood; we’re backing you all, Hollywood; our team is our fame protector. On boys, for we expect a victory from you Hollywood. 

"Hollywood! Hollywood! H-o-l-l-y-w-o-o-d! 

"Fling out that dear old flag of crimson and white; lead on your sons and daughters who for you fight; like men of old on giants, placing reliance, shouting defiance! Beneath these grand old hills, the best in the land. For honest labor and for learning we stand, and unto you we pledge our heart and hand, our Alma Mater, Hollywood! Alma Mater, Hollywood!" 

After the chanting had finished, conversations among the students dropped down to a murmur again. I let my eyes scan the players as they circled up. 

Mari must've noticed because she asked, "So, which one is he?" 

"Thirty-three," I answered without hesitation, remembering from the morning. 

Now Mari and I were both looking over the approximately 100 players, looking for Dylan. Finally, my eyes landed on him. He was casually doing some quad stretches. The only thing visible was his arms and calves, both tan and toned. 

"Toby Chase, what a catch!" Mari yelped, throwing her arms around me and jumping up and down with me glued to her body. 

I shoved the shrieking girl off of me. "He's not a catch, he's hardly even  a  friend." 

"Oh, honey, if that's what's above the jersey, I  wanna  know what's underneath it," she mumbled seductively. 

"Gross!" I yelled, wrinkling my nose and pushing my friend away again. 

"I know you're thinking it!" Mari exclaimed, accusingly pointing a finger at me. I stayed silent, not wanting to admit she was right. 

The Sheiks began doing jumping jacks, all wonderfully in sync. I caught myself watching Dylan for longer than I should ever watch him. I shook myself away from the attractive football player. My stomach churned, my ears and cheeks growing hot. Great. 

"So, who's  gonna  win?" Mari asked, pulling me out of my internal embarrassment. 

"I have no idea. Of course, I want us to win, but we could suck," I replied. 

"I heard we were pretty good this year. Emily told me we finally got a QB with a decent arm. I'm more excited for basketball season though. The new coach is supposed to be amazing. The state title is bound to  be  ours." Mari grinned, thinking about the idea of another state trophy in the cases. 

While I had my football, Mari had her basketball. She always went with her friends in her class to the games. I'm sure she's hooked up with the whole team by now, but she still has a year to go to get them all. Mari could not get enough of the NBA. Her family has a dedicated TV just for ESPN SportsCenter. It's a little ridiculous  – and  by a little, I mean a lot. 

"Just because  he’s  an amazing coach doesn't automatically mean we get a state title, you have to have an amazing team." I paused, Mari and I made eye contact. "And the team has to be amazing on the court, not in bed," 

Mari grumbled something about how "they could be both" but I was too busy laughing at my own joke to hear. That's when Mari started to hit my arm repeatedly. 

Exhaling to calm myself down, Mari whispered in my ear, "George," 

I stood on my tiptoes to look out over the crowd. Sure enough, walking towards the student's section was George. But he wasn't alone. With him was Danny, Aron, and Matt. They walked towards the first few rows that were mainly made up of seniors. Aron was immediately grabbed and disappeared into the fray of people. There were cheers and claps, people whooping, "Aron's the man!" and, "Tonight's  gonna  be amazing," and the occasional, "Inglewood parties are the best!" I guess Aron invited the whole school. 

"He's hosting?" Mari asked. I just nodded, feeling nervousness bubble up inside myself. Not only were Inglewood parties the worst because of cops and gangs and the like, but I would have to be in front of the whole school again. I couldn't wait for the attack of questions for the biker chick. 

A sharp blow of whistles interrupted my thought process. Everyone in the stands grew quiet as Hollywood's captains meet the opposing team's at midfield. The coin flipped, and Hollywood was receiving. Positions. The  thunk  of the ball as it flew through the air into the crimson and white arms of our team. He was off. Down at the 34. Time to kick ass. 

As the offense was taking the field, there was a bit of a disruption in the senior crowd. George jumped out onto the stairs and cupped his hands around his mouth before yelling, "J, what's good!" 

The whole senior class cheered as  Jorel  appeared in front of the student's section. A black LA snapback sat on his head, showing off his bold eyebrows. His black piercings shined under the dying light of the sun. Dark gray skinny jeans and a Misfits T-shirt brought the whole dark ensemble together on his tanned skin. He lifted his hands above his head as the offensive line took their positions. The stands fell silent. 

The ball was snapped, the QB backed, looking for an open receiver. Every eye was on  Jorel . 

"Hollywood, tonight's the night to prove how badass we are!" he shouted. "Tonight, we beat this joke of a team and show we are the best in this conference! Also, holler at Aron!" 

The crowd rioted as the QB made a quick pass to gain three yards. Just as quickly as J appeared, he was gone, sucked into the crowd just like Aron. 

"I've seen him at basketball games," Mari spoke up between plays. "But I've never seen him at school. I've always wondered how he got in," Mari giggled. I was just as curious as her. 

Cues were yelled down at the field. Hut  hut . Ball snapped. Handed off to a large running back who crashed through the defensive line and barreled past the whole team. Past midfield. Past the thirty. Past the fifteen. Past the five. Touchdown. 

Every student was jumping and screaming, hugging each other and clapping. The cheerleaders did a quick cheer to celebrate the quick score. The running back was tackled by his teammates. They shoved each other around, eventually making it off the field for the kick. 

"So how are you feeling about high school football?" Mari shouted above the conversations around us. 

"They're only fun when we score," I replied, shrugging. 

The rest of the first quarter was dominated by Hollywood. We made another touchdown with thirty seconds to go, leaving the score at 14-0. 

"This game hasn't chalked up to what everyone made it out to be," Mari mentioned as the clock ticked down to 0. I watched as the 15:00 reappeared on the board. 

"It's only been one quarter, anything can happen," I mumbled, glancing at the Sheik sideline. Dylan held his helmet under one arm, the other hand was on his hip. His dark hair was plastered down on his head, looking as sleek as  Jorel's . He was talking to the quarterback, possibly conversing about more passing plays. 

After another three-and-out, Dylan and the rest of the offense took the field. Something churned in my stomach as I watched Dylan take position, lining up against a large cornerback. The ball was snapped, Dylan ran. His legs pumped as he sprinted thirty yards. He pulled a quick hook, almost completely throwing the cornerback off balance. The ball was soaring, whistling through the air in a perfect spiral. Satisfyingly, it landed in Dylan's outstretched hands. He gripped the ball, pivoted and ran. And, damn, Dylan could run. As he neared the end-zone the crowd gradually grew louder, as did I. And then, he was in. Touchdown Hollywood. 20-0. 

Cheering. Lots of cheering. I heard a familiar voice shriek, "That's my man!" though I couldn't make out who. The extra point was good, bringing the score to 21-0. This ran down the first half, bringing us to half time. Or for us students, better known as food-time. 

"Want anything?" Mari asked, pulling a few dollars from her pocket. I waved her off, kindly declining her offer. She gave me a pat on the shoulder, a sad, sympathetic look, then hopped down the steps and wandered towards concessions. I sat down with the rest of the students, glad to finally be off my feet. 

" Yo , biker chick!" 

Great. We were already starting. 

I took a deep breath, exhaled, and agreed with myself that I wanted this. I wanted to be the badass biker chick. I straightened my face  and  my back,  then  turned. Walking towards me along my row were three senior boys. I recognized one as Sam Linder. He was notorious for being one of the  worst  kids at school. He was supposedly part of a gang, though it's  pretty  common knowledge a lot of people at school are  too . 

"Sam Linder," I simply said, casually crossing my arms. 

Sam was a decent height of about five foot ten. He wore a black hoodie that was zipped up. His messy, platinum blonde hair flopped to one side of his head. Standing on either side of him were two shorter males. One was as pale as a sheet, his short jet-black hair contrasting against his skin. On Sam's other side was a man quite the opposite. He had extremely dark skin with loose, curly hair and fades on the side. 

"That's me. What's your name, biker chick?" Sam asked, sitting next to me so I didn't have to keep looking up at him. 

"Toby Chase," I answered firmly. "What do you want?" 

Sam took his hands out his pockets and put them up in defense. "Hey, no need to get an attitude, simply wanted to finally meet the biker chick." My eyes flickered from Sam to the two other boys. Sam must've noticed because he pointed to the two. "These are  _ mis amigos _ , Tony Robles," he pointed to the extremely pale one, "and Marty Ellis," and then pointed at the extremely dark one. "Say hi, guys,"

They each said a gruff hello, not easing my slightly nervous stomach. I didn't let Sam see any of this and kept my face as emotionless as possible. It was getting easier and easier to push my nerves away. 

"What did you want to talk about?" I cocked my head to the side, meeting Sam's eyes. 

"I was just wondering if you were coming to Aron's party," He gave me a crooked smile, matching his hair. 

"Yeah, I'll be there," I replied. 

"I guess I'll see you then, Toby Chase," My name rolled off his tongue like sandpaper, sending a shiver down my spine and my heart into my throat. Sam flashed me another smile, then stood up and left. 

As soon as the three boys had their backs turned, I took a shaky breath. Mari's guess that something bad was going down tonight couldn't have felt more right. I thought I would get lost in my anxious feelings before I heard a soft voice rumble as someone sat next to me. Before even looking up, I knew who it was. 

"Hey,  Jorel ," I rattled. 

"Those guys do anything to you?" he asked, his prominent eyebrows pressed together, his forehead creasing in worry. 

I shook my head, giving him a reassuring smile. "No, Sam Linder is just a really unnerving guy," 

Jorel  laughed. The world grew a little brighter as his delightful laugh rang out. He took his snapback off, running his fingers through his hair. "He sure is a creepy guy. It's probably best you don't mess with him," he said more seriously. I nodded in agreement. 

A comfortable silence fell over us as the other students continued to chatter.  Jorel  fiddled with his piercings, gaining my attention. That's when I noticed they weren't just piercings, they were gauges. 

"Stretching your ears?" I asked, slightly startling  Jorel . His soft, calf brown eyes met mine as a small smile spread across his lips. 

"Yeah, how'd you know?" 

"I had a friend freshman year that tried stretching, but got to about a 10g and felt like it was too much work." I replied, then asked, "What are you at?" 

"4g,"  Jorel  answered, his smile growing wider. "Literally no one has noticed before, wow," he muttered, mainly to himself, but I could easily hear. I stared at my shoes, glad that I found a way to make him smile. 

"Hey, you!" Mari's voice penetrated the silence, making both  Jorel  and I jump. 

Jorel  glanced at me, then at Mari as she walked towards us, a bottle of Coca-Cola in her hand.  Jorel  looked at me again, raising an eyebrow. "Mari?" he silently mouthed. I nodded right as Mari got to us. 

"I've seen you before," Mari said, pointing at  Jorel . "At basketball games," 

Jorel  let out a laugh, "Yeah, I stop by," 

Mari put her hand on her hip. "You don't just stop by, you're the hype-man. You lead all the cheers and everything," 

Jorel  shrugged. "Guilty," he snickered. He then stood up so he and Mari were at the same height. Well, at least they were both standing. It wasn't hard to be taller than Mari. "And you're Mari Davidson, right?" 

Mari opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. She pressed her lips into a line before answering, "Yeah, that's me," 

"Toby was just telling me about you, it's nice to meet you,"  Jorel  said. 

Mari nodded, muttering, "Likewise," 

Whistles blew, signaling that the start of the second half was soon. 

"And that's my cue. See you guys after the game,"  Jorel  gave us a beaming smile, making me smile back.  Jorel  strolled away, hopping down into the throng of seniors. Mari took her spot next to me, still silent. 

As the ball was kicked by the Sheiks, Mari whispered, "Who the hell was that?" 

"That was  Jorel ," I turned to Mari and smiled. "While Jordon is just like you,  Jorel  is just like me,"


	7. They Were All Undead

The second half got more interesting as our lead started to slowly fade away. The opposing team made a few field goals and a touchdown, bringing the score to 21-16. Thankfully, in the last minute of the game, Hollywood intercepted a pass, sealing our win. I wasn't going to admit to anyone that I was as stressed during that minute as I was during the Raiders' last post-season run. 

As the last few seconds drained away, the students erupted into cheers. My ears were ringing as I clapped along. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jordon,  Jorel , and Aron all bolt from the stands, but my attention was quickly pulled back to the field when someone yelled, "Fuck yeah, Dylan!" The varsity team was prancing around the sideline. Dylan and the other running back were being hoisted onto the team's shoulders and paraded around. The losing team trudged off the field and into their locker room. 

"That was quite the game, wasn't it?" Mari asked, an eyebrow raised. She tossed the empty plastic Coke bottle from hand to hand, waiting for an answer. 

I shrugged. "It was alright. It's just a bunch of boneheads I don't care about." 

Mari " ooo"ed  as she put her hand over her mouth in shock. "I'm telling your boyfriend." 

"One, he's not my boyfriend. Two, go ahead," I taunted, putting my hands on my hips. "He's just as boneheaded as the rest of them." 

"Ouch, Toby, you're harsh," a masculine voice came from my side. I panicked at first, thinking it was Dylan himself. However, when I turned, I was met with a very different face. 

It was Matt in all his sassy glory. He raised his black eyebrows at me, tilting his head to one side. My extra-sassy response? 

"Oh, hey Matt," 

Matt just waved me off. "We're leaving soon for Aron's," 

I nodded, silently thanking him for notifying me. "We'll leave soon here, too," 

Matt flashed me a thumbs up and then hopped down the stands. Everyone was starting to clear out. The only people still lagging behind were groups of freshmen. Mari and I decided it would be best to follow suit and leave. We headed back inside the school and made our way to my locker. 

It was eerie, walking through the dark school hallways, my shoes slapping against the linoleum and reverberating through the school. I grabbed my helmet from my locker. Back out in the parking lot, cars were lined up to leave. It was almost comical how they would inch forward, then have to stop again. Mari decided she would wait with me before heading to my house. We wanted to stop by my place to drop some stuff off before swinging by Aron's party. 

As I was pulling my helmet on, I heard someone yell, "Wait!" in a loud, but breathless voice. I placed my helmet on my motorcycle and turned in a full circle to see who it was. 

Dylan Alvarez  was jogging toward me. He was wearing  his simple black  sweatshirt and a pair of dark jeans. His backpack was hanging from one shoulder. His panting became louder as he got closer to me. 

"Dylan? What the fuck?" I called out to him. With a few more steps, he was right in front of me. 

"Sorry I- I was changing and- and all- all of them left so I- I tried to- to catch a ride- and Jesus I have not run that fast before," Dylan puffed, trying to get a full sentence out without passing out. 

"Then what was that during the game? Was that just a jog?" I asked sarcastically. Dylan's middle finger was his response. "Anyways, how am I supposed to fit both of us? You don't even have a helmet," I pointed out, motioning to my own helmet. 

"Give our backpacks to your other friend. I trust you enough to not kill us," Dylan gave me a soft smile, though his eyes gave away his joke. 

"Yeah, well, I don't trust LA. Just ride with Mari, you two will be fine," I pushed Dylan towards Mari's car. He groaned but agreed to go with her. 

"Oh, and do me a favor!" I yelled as Dylan continued walking. 

He turned around and yelled back, "What is it?" 

"Don't talk about me with her," I ordered with a smirk. Dylan simply smiled back, turned around and continued towards Mari's car. 

I hopped on my bike and revved the engine. Now that the parking lot was less congested, I rolled out with Mari close behind. 

There was always something tranquil about riding at night. The street lights would leave streaks of yellow across my visor. The engine would rumble, echoing through the emptiness of nighttime. There was nothing to see but the splotches of road laid out in front of you. Each corner was a new venture into the unknown. Every stoplight is a pinprick of color in the otherwise black wasteland of the city. Yes, LA was a bustling place, but the night was when the sane slept and the insane came out to play. Bottles of whiskey broke on curbsides, the alcohol pouring out like sticky blood. Gunshots rang through your skull like a howling wolf in the deep woods. The smoke of cigarettes would rise, clouding out the stars like a foggy, toxic blanket. I guess I liked riding in the night because these things were constant. You couldn't think about your issues while you were trying not to get run over by the drunk guy next to you. 

If I was lucky, I could get out of the city and take the highway until the sun would bleach the horizon. Out there, nothing could take your thoughts away. It was just you, the throttle, and an infinite rope of concrete. No, you don't get lost in the night. Most are found wandering in the limbo of dawn, in a trance between the night and day. The blotted rays of the rising sun would hypnotize you, drawing you into your own mind and not letting you escape until it would burn your eyes. 

The people of the night were dancing skeletons while the people of dawn were walking corpses. 

They were all undead. 

I trudged my way through the black and white city. It was about thirty minutes winding through the streets to get back to my house. Pulling up into my driveway, the single spotlight of my motorcycle lit up the garage door and the empty space where my mother's car should be. Another late night. 

Mari pulled up and hopped out of her car, Dylan in tow. 

" _ La casa de Toby, ¿no? _ " Dylan asked, a strong Mexican accent slathering his words. 

" _ Sí _ ," I replied, shoving the house keys into my front door. " _ ¿ _ _ Eres _ __ _ mexicano _ _? _ " I tried a feeble attempt at Spanish. 

" _ Sí _ _ ,  _ _ pero _ _  no  _ _ hablo _ __ _ mucho _ _ , _ " Dylan answered with ease. His smooth, caramel voice then switched to his rumbly, darker voice. "I'm also Canadian," 

I pushed the door open, taking a few steps inside my own house. The bitter smell of rotting wood and fresh laundry tickled my nose. Good to be home again. 

Mari practically skipped into the front room, throwing her backpack next to our couch. Despite her lavish household, she's ended up crashing in my central-Inglewood home a few times. 

"So is the whole "money smelling like maple syrup" thing real?" Mari pondered, turning to face the tall football player who was still in front of the porch. 

"No, it's not," Dylan sounded flat, distracted. I watched his eyes flicker around the door frame. 

A hole was being burned in my stomach, my heart was being choked. The air was being squeezed out of my body by the hands that formerly caught a touchdown pass. A breath sputtered from my lips. 

"Let's head to Aron's," I managed to gag out. I kept my voice from cracking, forcing a smile across my face as I stepped back outside and past Dylan. 

The three of us walked the one and a half miles in relative silence. We'd exchange "How are  you?"s  and "I'm  good,"s  throughout the fifteen minutes it took us to get there. 

You could use every sense to figure out you were nearing Aron's house, not including sight. The sound of cheering and chattering, the dull pump of a bass. The occasional shriek of joy. The smell of sweaty bodies wafted towards you, along with the metallic smell of cars piled up in the street. The ground shook beneath our feet, the faint taste of alcohol and ash settled on the back of my throat. It was all the signs of a party. 

Mari shoved past me, jogging ahead. We passed a few more houses and arrived at Aron's. The lot was flooded with people, cars were strewn everywhere. Some were even parked in the middle of the road. Music was blasting through the house, seeping to the outside. There were at least seventy people milling around Aron's front yard, talking in small groups, and God knows how many there were inside. The rest of Aron's street was dark except for his house, a beacon in the middle of Inglewood. 

Mari ran back to me and grabbed my hand. "C'mon Toby, let's get into this!" she enthused. I glanced to Dylan with a pleading look before being yanked into a crowd of people. 

It was a workout just getting to the front door. Shoving past people was hard enough, not to mention multiple people attempted to grab at me as I passed, calling me my school-wide nickname. Many questions were thrown at me, like, "Where's your bike?" and "Who's this girl?" and "So you and Dylan?", but Mari deflected them all, simply pulling me along. 

The final yank was through the front door and into an ocean of bodies. People were stacked wall-to-wall; dancing, talking, drinking, kissing, yelling, everything. It was an explosion of the senses, sending my brain spinning. I felt hands on my body and hair, voices ranging from the sound of a balloon to a bear. Mari simply kept her hand in mine, leading me through the maze of teenagers in a daze. 

Arriving at the kitchen, I was starting to see, hear, smell, feel, and taste again. I gripped the countertop, the cool, smooth granite sending tendrils of ice up my fingers into my hands and arms. I basked in this cool touch, glad to not be overwhelmed by the whole student body anymore. 

Shit. I didn't knock on wood. 

"And there she is, the biker chick," 

He was male. Older. Upperclassmen. Beyond that, I couldn't tell who just spoke to me. 

A soft melody played in my ears, though I knew the music was much louder than what I was hearing. I looked up from my white-knuckle grip on the counter to meet the eyes of the person who'd just spoken. Someone I had never seen before. 

"You look really overwhelmed, do you need some space?" A different voice. Calmer. Smoother. And, of course, from the opposite direction. But I knew who's voice that was. It was hard to forget. 

I let go of the counter so I was standing upright. I turned to my left to see  Jorel , shrouded in shadows, leaning against the fridge. He had a smile on his lips, but concern in his eyes. 

"No, I'm fine, just thirsty," I replied without thinking.  Jorel  simply nodded but kept his eyes on me. We didn't break eye contact until Mari came over and intercepted my gaze. She had two red Solo cups, one in each hand. She stood between  Jorel  and me, stealing glances at the two of us.  Jorel  finally turned on his heel and left the kitchen without a word. 

"Something about him rubs me the wrong way," Mari said truthfully. She handed a cup over to me. I wrapped my fingers around it, the smell of beer creeping up to my nose. Mari and I raised our cups up, then both gulped our malty drinks. 

I was enjoying my sweet beverage when Aron rushed into the kitchen. 

"Oh, good, there's not too many people. Garage in five for some good shit," Aron's words tumbled out of his mouth, and then he was off to the next room. 

"What's going on in the garage?" Mari asked. I shrugged, even though I knew full well what they were planning. 

"So what about this party?" I swallowed some more beer after asking my question to Mari. 

"It's not too bad. Music is good, and it's really well under control, but not too many choices of alcohol. Not to mention I haven't seen Mary Jane yet. I miss that bitch," Mari grinned. 

There was a crashing noise and a grunt. Someone fell into the room, their face smashing into the tile floor. When they sat up, dark red blood was dripping from their nose. 

"Toby... Chase..." they mumbled. I fell to my knees in front of them, immediately reaching for their shattered nose. 

"Jason Hernandez?" I wondered aloud as soon as my fingers touched his hot cheek. He pushed my hand away, his eyes lazily drooping. I recognized him from my electrical engineering class. 

"Stay away... Sam Linder... Eighteen..." And with that, Jason's eyes rolled up into his head and he passed out on the floor, his small shoulders slumping over the rest of his body. 

"Mari, help me," I motioned for her to kneel down and pick up Jason. Her hand latched under his armpits while I grasped at his calves. With a heave, we placed him safely on the counter, propping his head up so he wouldn't drown in his own blood. I grabbed a towel and placed it underneath his chin so his shirt wouldn't get too ruined. Mari snagged a handful of ice cubes from Aron's freezer and tossed them in a paper towel. She hopped onto the counter so she was sitting next to Jason's thighs. She lightly placed the makeshift bag of ice on Jason's nose. 

"Why'd he warn you to stay away from Sam Linder?" Mari finally asked the question on both of our minds. I couldn't answer her. We sat in relative silence in the kitchen before remembering what Aron told us. 

"I'm going to head out to the garage, see what's going on. You got Jason?" 

Mari nodded, repositioning her hand to make herself more comfortable. "Have fun, Toby." I raised my cup to her and left the kitchen. 

The rest of the house had almost completely cleared out. There were only a few people still lazily dancing around. As I passed Aron's living room, I thought I saw someone passed out on the floor. 

_ It's only ten o'clock man, hold yourself together, _  I mentally scolded the blacked - out person. I continued through the front door and into the driveway. 

Almost two hundred kids were squashed together like sardines in front of the garage. They all sat down together, many people sitting on top of others to get a good view. I glanced over the crowd, looking for an open spot, but something caught my eye. 

Sam Linder. Staring at me. 

Jason's warning haunted me as I pried my gaze away from his. I finally found a patch of grass in the neighbor's yard and began to carefully traverse my way through. 

" Yo , biker chick, nice shirt, but I bet you can't name three players," someone behind me sneered, gaining a booming laugh from every guy in the crowd. 

I kept walking, feeling everyone's eyes on me. I squared my shoulders, lifted up my chin, and said, "Thanks, it almost cost as much as the tickets I bought to go see Derek  Carr , Latavius Murray, and Amari Cooper kick some ass. Or Khalil Mack, Charles Woodson, and Nate Allen show off our killer defense. Want me to continue?" 

All two hundred people lost it. Some were so surprised by my response they were jumping up and clapping me on the back. I finally made it to my grassy spot, everyone still chattering. 

"Damn, biker chick, with a mouth like that, no one's  gonna  mess with you," I heard a different person whisper in my ear. I turned to see who it was but only saw people talking amongst themselves. 

"Alright, alright, calm down everyone." Dylan's voice filled the air, fuzzy and garbled. I searched for where Dylan was, finally finding him standing in the garage along with  Jorel , Jordon, George, Aron, and Matt. Their equipment and instruments were set up; guitars were slung around shoulders, drumsticks and mics were in hands. Bright lights lit the six boys nicely in a white, hot blaze. Dylan had his sweatshirt off, exposing his bare chest. 

Now, I could go on and on about Dylan's body. It was slightly concerning how much I stared, but at least I can recite the exact way he looked. 

Muscles rippled under his stomach, abs carved out of his skin, still tan in the pale light. Without him flexing, you could easily count a six-pack from a ways away. A prominent v-line dipped below his waistband, leading me to wonder if it looked the same under his crimson shorts. 

_ Great, _  I grumbled to myself.  _ Now I sound like Mari.  _

My eyes were pulled up to Dylan's face again as he brought a mic to his mouth. 

"Now I know Toby Chase puts on a damn good show," a smirk, "but this is when the real good shit begins. Up on your feet, bitches, and get fucking loud for Hollywood!" 

Everyone launched into the air, screaming and clapping. I followed suit, happy to hear some of their music and learn this other side of them. 

Matt sat behind his drums, head down, concentrated. His shoulders heaved when he breathed, already bobbing to a nonexistent rhythm. He ran his thumbs over the wood of his drumsticks. 

Jorel  stood just in front of the drum set, a bass guitar slung against him. He smiled widely as he looked over the large crowd in front of him, pride beaming in his eyes. 

Dylan was strolling in front of the garage, hi-fiving his friends as he passed. He shouted along with everyone else. Excitement bubbled through him as he waved his hands in the air. 

Aron stood next to  Jorel , shrinking every time Dylan passed in front of him. His eyes flitted, nervous.  Jorel  leaned over to whisper something to him. Aron then stepped up looking stronger, braver, seemingly matching the ferocity of Dylan. 

Jordon was on the other side of Aron, smiling to himself as he last-minute tuned his guitar. He looked calm and comfortable, serene in front of such a large crowd. 

George stood behind Jordon, carefully watching him tune. He looked distracted but still thinking about this small show they were about to perform. His backward snapback puffed his mahogany colored hair out from under the brim, maturing the senior a few years. 

Dylan stepped back, allowing  Jorel  to step forward.  Jorel  took a deep breath, exhaled, then his fingers flew across his bass. Gritty, metallic notes hammered through the crowd, propelling into the rest of LA. 

Enter Matt, pounding away at his drums, rumbling the ground with an infectious beat. 

Jordon picked up a melody on his guitar and stepped forward to a mic. In a voice I would never expect from him, lyrics poured from his lips. 

"God money I'll do anything for you. 

God money just tell me what you want me to. 

God money nail me up against the wall. 

God money don't want everything he wants it all." 

That's when I recognized the song, as did everyone else:  _ Head Like a Hole _  by Nine Inch Nails. 

As Aron dived into the chorus, the only thing I thought was,  _ Holy shit, they're good.  _

Despite what Aron said about how they were "trying" to be a band, it seemed like they thoroughly succeeded on that front. 

Suddenly, there was a scream, one that boiled your skin and put every hair in your body on end. All six boys stopped moving, leaving amps buzzing and mics void of sound. 

It was Mari.


	8. The Warning Written in Blood

Aron's eyes darted to mine. I pleaded with him silently,  _ Please, help her. _  Aron grabbed Danny by the front of his shirt from the front row, tossing him into the garage as Aron ran into his own house. Murmurs spread through the group. Nervousness plagued my body. I shouldn't have left her alone. I should have brought her out here with me instead of letting her tend to Jason. Even though I heard the music pick up again, it sounded a million miles away, like the song was crawling through a tunnel, reaching my ear in unorganized pieces. 

As the ground pounded underneath my feet, I was about to turn to head into the house to check on Mari myself until I felt hands on my shoulders and a face in front mine. 

"Mari's okay, don't worry," Aron whispered, swinging my mind back into reality, allowing the song back into my head. 

I just swallowed and nodded as Aron slipped away into the crowd. The fear was already getting replaced with sweet relief as I allowed the band's cover to take me over again. Before I knew it, their show was over. The last note was left hanging in the sweaty air, scratchy against our ears, crashing through our minds. Then that last buzz was replayed by the shrieks of the other teenagers around me. All I could hear was Danny's razor-sharp voice on top of a background of screaming white noise. If this was a garage band, I needed to go out and experience a real live show. 

"Thank you, Hollywood High!" Jordon yelled before another wave of clapping drew over the crowd. The idle buzz of the amps was choked out as the original music from earl ier  replaced the moment of relative silence. 

The crowd began to disperse, many people pushing into the garage. 

_ People, they go to our school, _  I thought to myself, rolling my eyes and following a trail of people back inside the house. 

"Toby, not going to come congratulate us?" complained Jordon. 

I side-stepped, allowing the flow of people to continue. Turning around, I tapped my chin. 

"I'm not so sure, Jordon, I mean, my local garage band was much more impressive." 

Jordon opened his mouth, a few syllables stuttering through his lips. He finally settled on, "Wait, actually?" 

"No, you fucking idiot! That was fucking amazing! That was even better than the original." I called out, throwing my hands in the air. 

Jordon sighed in relief. "You're an asshole, you had me there for a second." 

I strolled forward, putting my hands on Jordon's shoulders. His icy eyes appeared grayer under the night sky. I leaned forward until my lips were almost touching his ear. I then whispered as quietly as I could, "Mari taught me well." 

Jordon scowled, pushing me away. "Well, tell that bitch Mari she needs to come out here," 

I registered Jordon's words after a few moments of silence. "Wait, why does she need to come out here?" 

Jordon raised his eyebrows. "It's a little game we like to call Peck or Deck. Now go get your lady friend and meet us here." He pointed to the front lawn where a few people were still hanging around. 

"Yes sir, Mr. Terrell," I barked, snapping into a mock salute. He gave me the double-bird, then headed back into the garage. I headed the opposite direction  to  the front door. 

I was somewhat relieved and disappointed at the fact that everyone was now talking about "Hollywood's best band" instead of the biker chick. This made pushing through the crowd back towards the kitchen much easier than before. I finally arrived at the small room, Mari sat next to Jason, still holding the bag of ice on his nose, just  as  I had left her. She looked content and calm, contradicting her cry for help a few minutes earlier. 

"Everything okay back here? What happened?" I quickly asked the moment Mari and I made eye contact. 

"It's fine, Jason just started coughing blood everywhere, got the whole counter a little messy. Not to mention my shirt... Not sure how to explain that one to my mom." Mari chuckled at the thought. 

I stepped over to the unconscious boy and his temporary nurse. "And how's Jason?" 

Mari shrugged, glancing down at his face. "He'll hurt in the morning, but he'll be okay. Why ask?" She turned to look at me. 

I grinned, shifting my weight to one side and placing my hand on my hip. "Jordon gave us a proposition." 

Mari pressed her lips into a line, knitting her eyebrows. "And what is that?" 

"Peck or Deck," 

Mari's emerald green eyes grew wide, twinkling with excitement. "Holy shit I love that game!" 

Now it was my turn to be confused. "What even is it?" 

Mari hopped off the counter, still holding the ice. "You'll love it, I promise." she simply replied, brushing off my question. She shoved past me into the smothering hallway. Within a few seconds, she was back in the kitchen with her senior friend, Emily, from the game. 

"It shouldn't take long. Thanks so much, Emily." Mari said, handing Emily the bag of ice. Emily said it was no problem, then took Mari's previous spot on the counter next to Jason. 

Mari grabbed my hand out of the blue. I groaned, "Not again," as she yanked me through the house and outside. There weren't many people left in the scratchy grass, only seven boys and five girls sitting around an empty beer bottle. 

"Mari, if this what I think it is I-" I began to complain but was quickly cut off. 

"Glad you could make it, biker chick," Jordon grinned. He motioned for the two of us to come over. 

The thirteen people had created a circle, alternating boys and girls. There were two empty spots open between Jordon and Dylan, and Dylan and George. Without hesitation, Mari dropped my hand and plopped down on the dusty, cold earth next to George, leaving me to sit between Jordon and Dylan. 

"So who hasn't played before?" George asked when I sat down. I was the only one to raise my hand. 

"Rules are simple: When it's your turn, choose either Peck, or Deck  – which  is pretty much kiss, or fight  – spin  the bottle, and Peck or Deck whoever it lands on," George explained, his dark brown hair turning silver in the night. 

"There's, like, no rules on the pecking or decking?" I tentatively asked. 

George shrugged. "Don't have sex and don't kill someone, sound fair?" I didn't have time to process his response let alone respond before George continued. "Awesome, sounds good. Out of the goodness of my heart, I will start us off with a Deck," 

George reached for the bottle, spinning it on top of the mound of dry dirt it rested on. it started to slow before the bottleneck pointed at George's victim. He stood, cracking his knuckles. 

"I'm sorry, Danny-boy," 

Danny slowly rose, lifting his golden eyes to George's. Danny and George stepped out of the circle. Danny muttered, "How do you want this to go down. Tap? Knock out?" 

"Dirty Back," George grinned, squaring off. "Best of luck," 

Danny launched himself at George, allowing the small boy nearly knocking him back. George swung his fists frantically, simply hoping that one would connect with Danny's jaw. One did. Danny stumbled to the side, a new cut on his right temple. His once perfect hair was already in shambles, pieces of black falling into his eyes. 

Both boys took a few moments to breathe before Danny was on the offensive again. This time, his hands flew for George's throat. George dodged Danny's attacks, ducking beneath his flailing arms. With the lower vantage, George squatted, then pushed himself forward, crashing the crown of his head into Danny's stomach. George wrapped his arms around the boy's torso, lifting him up. Then, with a grunt, George slammed Danny down, his back and head crashing into the hard dirt and sprigs of grass. I thought I could actually see the breath escaping Danny all at once as soon as hi s  body connected with the ground. 

George stood over Danny's moaning body, breathing heavily. With a few deep breaths, he was back to normal. He moved back to his spot in the circle, dusting off his hands. 

"If that's George," I whispered to Jordon, "I don't want to see what Dylan can do." Jordon just shook his head, not helping to relieve my worries. 

Danny slowly pushed himself from the ground, still sputtering for air. 

"Mari, your turn,"  Jorel  pointed out. I pulled my gaze from Danny and watched my best friend's face. 

"Why the hell not, I'm going Peck," Mari spun the bottle around as Danny trudged back to his spot. The bottle stopped, landing on a girl sitting between George and Aron. She was a typical preppy blonde girl with ringlets in her hair and a pink pastel crop top from Forever 21. She glanced at Mari, then at George, and then at Aron. 

"Payton, Mari," George waved his hand, beckoning them towards each other. 

Mari and Payton leaned towards each other across George. He didn't seem too upset about his positioning in this whole situation. 

It was  kind  of hard to watch Mari and Payton kiss because it was honestly the sloppiest thing I've ever seen. They both had completely opposite ideas of what a kiss was. I glanced around the circle, seeing the other girls reacting similarly to me, while the boys reacted similarly to George.

Dylan's soft, thunderous voice broke them apart. "Alright you two, I think it's my turn." 

Mari sat back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. I could see her glancing at George's creepily grinning face. 

Dylan ran his fingers through his black coffee bean colored hair, allowing it to fall softer along his head. "Peck," 

He spun the bottle,  my stomach churning along . Why did I care about this? Why was I... Jealous? It didn't help  that  the bottle landed on a younger looking Hispanic girl. She flipped her braid over her shoulder, a smug look on her face. Inside, I was fuming. 

_ You don't like Dylan, remember? So stop worrying. You don't care about this. _  I kept telling myself. 

"What's your name, cutie?" Dylan's sweet voice asked. 

"I'm Marcela. You're Dylan Alvarez, right?" It didn't sound right, his name coming out of her mouth. 

_ Toby motherfucking Chase, chill. _  I ordered myself, attempting to relax my slightly raging self. 

"Indeed I am. Now, why don't we get along with this?" Dylan pulled the tiny girl to him, forcing me to shut my eyes. Then, I realized the others would see me like that, making me open my eyes again. 

Dylan and Marcela were in a lip lock for the ages. The way they kissed would make anyone jealous, not just me. It was quite obvious Dylan was the one leading their dancing tongues. And there I was, forcing myself to watch this spectacle. After a solid thirty seconds, I loudly cleared my throat. Marcela and Dylan separated, Marcela returning to her spot. 

I glanced to my right at Dylan. His dark eyes seemed to be challenging me. I locked my eyes on the bottle, smiling to myself. 

"Deck," I said pretentiously. 

"Well, shit, biker chick, you better hope it's not me," the tall football player next to met muttered in my ear as I spun the bottle. A creeping chill crawled up my spine, making the back of my head numb. 

Luckily, the bottle did not land on Dylan. Instead, the empty beer bottle pointed to the host himself, Aron. 

"This is  gonna  be good!" Jordon called out.  Jorel  shushed him as Aron and I slowly stood up. I scanned his scrawny, twig-like arms, pale under the white spotlights still blaring from his garage. 

No, Jordon, I thought to myself smiling. This is  gonna  be easy. 

Oh, man, I regret thinking that. 

"So, biker chick, which way you want it?" Aron asked, a crooked smile on his face. I was slightly taken aback by the fact that his usual shaky, nervous self couldn't be seen. 

I tightened my bun as I cocked my head to one side. "What are my options?" 

"Well, you can Tap, which is essentially wrestling each other until one of us is in too much pain to continue. That's when you Tap Out. Then there's Dirty Back, what George and Danny did. Fight each other until one of you end up on your back. And then Knockout, which I think is self-explanatory." Aron smoothly answered. 

I took a few seconds to think before giving the senior my answer. "Tap," 

Aron and I shifted over to empty lawn space, giving us room to fight. 

"I'm really sorry I've got to do this in front of your house, Aron," I taunted him, stalling for time to think of a strategy. 

"No, I'm sorry that I've got to ruin your perfect reputation, biker chick," Aron replied. 

I had my strategy, it was time to act. I quickly took a few steps to close the gap between the two of us. I grabbed for his tiny arms and throat, hoping my speed would knock him to the ground. Turns out Aron was a lot stronger than I would ever predict. He didn't budge when I tried to tackle him. Instead, he used my momentum to wrap his arms around my shoulders, whipping him around so I landed face-first in the dirt, Aron landing on top of me. His arms went from being around my shoulders to being around my neck. Panic struck my body as Aron began to tighten his small arms around my throat. 

_ No, Toby, don't tap out. _  I told myself, my hands grabbing at Aron's arms. I heard shouting. I finally got a decent hold of the boy on top of me, pulling his arm slowly up to my mouth. I bit into the flesh of his forearm, getting a shriek from Aron. He tore his arm away from me, giving me the opportunity to arch my back and kick my legs up, sending Aron off my back and into the dirt next to me. I tasted blood in my mouth. Aron's blood. 

We both groaned and slowly stood up, our shoulders slumped, chests rising and falling in unison. 

"Holy shit, Aron, you're bleeding,"  Jorel  yelled from somewhere behind me. 

"Fuck that, Toby just beat Aron!" Jordon yelled back with a chorus of whoops following his statement. 

"Both of you shut up!" Aron spat, looking down at his right arm, blood trickling down from his bite wound. "She only wins if I tap," 

A noise came out of my throat similar to a growl. I ran at Aron again, blinded with determination. I needed to beat this puny boy. 

This time around, I used a different strategy. I ran past him, grabbing the back of his tank top. Again, he hardly budged, but I knew how to make him fall. As I yanked his tank top with all my strength, I kicked my legs out, pushing Aron's feet out from underneath him. We both toppled to the ground, Aron once again on top of me. This time my back landed in the dirt. I quickly wrapped my thighs around Aron's hips as he landed on top of me. With his legs locked down, I circled my arms around the boy's throat, pulling hard. I heard him sputter, then I didn't hear an inhale. He clawed at my arms, but I simply squeezed my legs together more, sending more waves of pain through Aron's small body. After a few more seconds of Aron's breathless attempt at getting free, he desperately tapped on my arm. I unraveled my limbs from around him, pulling myself from underneath him. Aron fell to the dirt, coughing and grabbing at his neck and hips. I knelt on the ground, also recovering my breath. 

I heard feet shuffling around me, surrounding Aron and me. 

"Holy shit, Toby, you just beat Aron," Jordon's voice came through the night air, reminding me where I was. 

" Yo , Aron, you good?" George asked him, kneeling down. 

"Fuck... Off..." Aron stammered, still struggling to breathe. George stood up and backed away. 

Using the adrenaline still pumping through me, I pushed myself up to a standing position. I felt someone grab my arm carefully, making sure I wouldn't fall. 

"Holy fuck, that's amazing! No one ever beats Aron during Tap." Jordon had his hands in the air, bright blue eyes wide. "Biker chick, you just got more bad-ass." 

I ignored the excited boy in front of me and turned to see who had a healthy grip on my arm. 

"Thanks,  Jorel ," I managed to say. 

He gave me a soft, reassuring smile. "Of course, Toby," 

With  Jorel's  help, Jordon,  Jorel , George, Aron and I all headed back to the circle. Matt was schmoozing up to a girl I remember was Hanna from my physics class. She was having none of it. Aron fumbled to the ground on the other side of Hanna, still a hand on his neck as if he felt like I was still choking him. I myself was about to sit back down until I heard clapping. 

Sam Linder stood in the driveway alone, slow clapping and staring at me. Jason's warning flood my mind again, immediately triggering my flight or fight reflex, and I was all out of fight. 

I shook  Jorel  off my arm and tried my best to confidently and casually stroll over to Sam. 

"What do you want?" I asked with a twinge of harshness. 

Sam brushed his silver hair to one side. "I just wanted to congratulate you. I've never seen someone give  _ mi  _ _ hermano _  a beat down like that." 

I crossed my arms over my chest. "No, Sam, what do you really want from me?" 

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "You're confusing me, biker chick, I don't want anything from you." 

"Well, I've been told you're trouble." I sharply replied. 

Sam leaned forward, his nose almost touching mine. In a ghastly whisper, he said, "Oh, Toby Chase, haven't you learned? Everyone here is trouble, even you are, even if you don't know it yet." 

Without flinching, I shot back, "How am I trouble, Sam Linder?" 

Sam took a step back, turning his back to me. He rolled the sleeves of his black sweatshirt up. "First of all, you live in Inglewood-" 

"How do you know that?" I growled through gritted teeth. 

He waved me off. "I have my ways." Sam then turned back around to face me. "While we're on the subject, how does a girl like you living in a place like yours come by such a nice, new motorcycle?" 

"It was a gift," I muttered, the hairs on my arms standing on end despite the LA heat and crew neck sweater I was wearing. 

"Oh, well, that's sweet." Sam gushed with obvious sarcasm. "I just hope nothing bad comes of it in such an unpredictable neighborhood." With those chilling words, Sam began to walk down Aron's driveway. 

I felt my soul being torn to shreds at that moment. I was watching Sam Linder stroll away to go destroy my happiness, my dignity, my livelihood  – my  motorcycle. There was only one possible way to solve this. 

A screech escaped my throat as I tackled Sam to the concrete. I pushed his shoulders into the hard ground with my knees and began to pummel my fists into his jaw, nose, temples, wherever. If it was Sam Linder's face, I wanted his blood splattered on it. 

It wasn't long before someone grabbed me and yanked me off of Sam, my legs kicking and my arms still swinging. 

"I'll kill you!" I screamed at the nearly unconscious boy. "I'll kill you if you so much as  _ breathe  _ near my bike!" 

A hand was slapped over my mouth, silencing my death threats. Another arm was wrapped around my shoulders and chest, restraining me and holding my body close to the person behind me. 

"Toby, chill, he isn't worth it." Dylan. Knowing  he  was that close to me helped ease my bout of anger and thirst for violence. I closed my eyes, feeling fatigue wrack my body, allowing myself to fall back into Dylan's chest. 

"Don't drag her into this."  Jorel's  usually sugar sweet voice now sounded bitter and pointed. 

I opened my eyes to see Sam struggling to his feet, wiping the blood from his eyes. "She's getting into this, whether she's with us or against us." Sam spat, then hobbled off into the street. A few seconds of silence slid by as Sam disappeared into the night.


	9. Night Riders

Gang wars weren't like what you see in movies. They aren't guys in sagging jeans holding their guns sideways as they shoot out the window of their low-riding muscle car. I'd prefer that over what they really are. They are cunning, thought out moves to discredit and slow opposing gangs' moves. They are planned carefully and precisely, only bringing harm or pain to the people that deserve it. They are performed so well sometimes, normal people can get caught in the middle without even knowing.

Normal people like me.

But a full-fledged gang war was not my current worry. Hell, I didn't even know one was going on. I was much more preoccupied with something else.

In Dylan's arms, I felt like passing out. My knees nearly buckled, but Dylan caught me, pulling me back up.

"Alright biker chick, take it easy. Let's get you something to drink." He kept an arm around my shoulders as he turned to the rest of the group. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm thinking the game's over." There were murmurs of agreement.

Dylan and I slowly walked to the house. I kept my eyes on the ground, feeling the numbness in my limbs. I watched where I put my feet, making sure I wouldn't misstep. But before we could even make it to the door, there was yelling from behind us.

"Guys, I wouldn't," Matt hollered to us, stopping Dylan and me in our tracks. "Just got tipped that the police are coming to bust the party."

Dylan cursed under his breath, turning to face Matt. "Where the hell are we gonna go?" As Dylan was asking, Aron sprinted past us and into his house. I assumed he was going to tell the party-goers the police were on their way.

"We have cars, we can all just go home," Matt offered.

"Not everyone has cars. Toby, Mari, and I walked." Dylan replied.

I took Dylan's arm from around my shoulders. "Or we could all got to my place. If we go now, we can walk there no problem."

"Except only you know where you live, how are us, the ones driving, gonna get there?" Matt pointed out, shooting down my idea.

People slowly started to leave Aron's house, obviously not in too much of a hurry. That was until we heard sirens off in the distance. Aron rushed outside to check if he was hearing correctly.

"Guys, we need to go,  _ now _ !" Danny yelled from the road as the flashing blue and red lights of a cop car lit up Aron's street.

"My place it is. Let's go!" I decided, starting to run. I heard people behind me yelling at me as I passed them. I turned the corner onto the sidewalk. After a few seconds, I glanced over my shoulder to see Jorel, Danny, George, Matt, Dylan, Jordon, Aron, and Mari all chasing after me.

Before the end of the block, I pulled off into someone's yard, hiding behind their garage. Everyone quickly followed me. Aron watched around the corner of the building to see two squad cars pulling into his driveway, multiple cops hopping out and running into his house. George yanked him, pulling him behind the garage.

"Man, I hope no one saw us," Danny mumbled, breathing a little heavy.

"We should be fine, but I don't want to see if they search the area. Let's go while they're inside." I said, pushing myself away from the wall and breaking into a run again.

It felt good to switch into running mode again. Even though it was in a panic, that only helped me move my legs faster and harder. I was silently hoping that everyone else was able to keep up.

Dylan could, for after a block of running he was by my side.

"Damn, biker chick, you're fucking  _ fast _ ," he said between breaths. He was obviously not built for this, but when I glanced over my shoulder to see everyone else slowly falling behind, I concluded that he was better than average.

"I think you forget that I've run for a long time now," I replied with little effort, even though I was at an absurdly fast pace.

"We should call you running chick from now on," Dylan somehow managed a smirk.

I scowled at his idea. "I think I much prefer biker chick, but thank you," I pulled off behind another house again, waiting for everyone to catch up and take a few deep breaths.

"Why don't you do track? Or cross country?" Dylan questioned, hunched over with  his  hands on his knees.

"First of all, stand up and put your hands on your head, it helps you get oxygen quicker. Second of all, I hate high school sports." I replied, leaning against the wall. Sweat was built up underneath my sweater. It probably wasn't smart on my part to go and sprint in a crewneck sweater in the dead heat of LA.

"Didn't seem like you were hating the game today," Dylan smirked, doing as I told him. I only rolled my eyes as the others started to appear.

"Goddamn Toby, fucking slow down!" Matt puffed when he rounded the corner.

"Stop being gay, Matt," Jordon jeered as he entered our hiding spot.

"Shut up you fat fuck, you were behind me the whole time." Matt groaned back.

"How about both of you shut up, 'cause a cruiser is coming down our road." Danny shushed their petty argument. I crept to the corner of the house to glance around as the rest of the group sprinted behind me. Sure enough, a cop car was slowly rolling down the street, a flashlight flickering along the houses, looking for runners like us.

I turned and pushed the person in front of me, who just so happened to be Jorel. "Move, move! Be quiet but get to the back of the house." The seven boys and Mari all turned around and hurried to the backyard. Thankfully, this house had a shed we all cowered behind. We sat and waited, our hot breaths and beating hearts the only noise we made. Suddenly, a light flashed along the side of the house. Everyone held their breath, silently begging for their pounding hearts to stop too. The light faded and everyone let our their breath.

"Holy shit, that's terrifying," Mari whispered. Most of the boys glanced at her and gave her an oh-honey-you-have-no-idea look.

"We have to keep moving," I broke the awkward silence, standing up. "I'll only feel safe once we get to my house."

Matt also stood up, fixing his hair so his curls weren't so... curly. "How far  _ is _  your house?"

I shrugged. "Half a mile. C'mon guys," I ran again, leaving a chorus of groans in my wake.

I ran through backyards, stopping if I saw a beam of light flash a few houses in front of me. Finally, I had to come out from behind the houses. As quickly as I could, I sprinted across the street and just kept running. After a few more minutes, I arrived home.

I did the most logical thing anyone would do in my position, and that was to hug my bike. Breathing heavy, I pulled myself to my Yamaha, running my fingers over the leather seat. I did laps around it, checking for any damages like odd bolts removed, a twisted chain or abnormally greased parts. Everything looked perfectly normal, just as I had left it only a few hours earlier.

Footsteps approached me, slapping at a walking pace. I glanced over my shoulder to see Dylan appear in the driveway. I fished my keys from my pocket, tossing them to him.

"Open the door, make yourself at home," I told him, turning back to the motorcycle. I heard Dylan jingling the keys as he unlocked the door. Then there was the creak of the door opening and closing.

I sat down on the driveway next to my bike, resting my head against the fuel tank. Yes, I knew it was disgusting, but I didn't care at that moment. All I cared about was that my bike was okay and unharmed.

Matt ran up to my driveway, his head tilted back, chest heaving. He was closely followed by  Jordon .

"For a gay kid... You sure run well..."  Jordon  huffed. Matt just scowled at him.

"Should we head inside?" the curly-haired boy asked. I nodded to him, the two boys jumping up my porch and went into my house.

A group of George, Mari  – no  surprise there  – Aron , Danny, and Jorel jogged towards me. Mari told the boys they could head inside, waving for them to follow her. However, Jorel broke off from the group, heading straight towards me.

"Hey, Hype-Man!" Mari yelled, noticing he wasn't following her.

"Mari!" I cut her off, gaining everyone's attention. "It's fine," I continued, a bit more docile.

Mari just nodded and headed inside, the three other boys in tow. Jorel plopped down next to me on the hard cement, resting his back against our garage door. A few minutes of silence went by.

"You know, that bike was my first project at Rob's," Jorel piped up, not moving. I turned my head to look at him in amazement. Jorel then snickered. "I guess that's why you had to come back in."

I chuckled along with Jorel, clearing the tension built up in my chest.

"Who was it a gift from?" Jorel asked carefully with a mellow and soft tone of voice.

I rested my hand on the tire, knowing I'd get covered in black dirt. "Rob gave it to me. He and my father were close; and when my dad-" Something caught in my throat shutting me up.

"It's okay Toby, you don't have to say anything," Jorel assured me, but I just shook my head.

"When my dad... Left, Rob thought I should learn how to ride." I finished, speaking so quietly I almost couldn't hear myself.

"Well, Rob's a pretty good guy," Jorel swiftly responded.

I nodded and smiled. "Yeah, he really is." I brushed my right hand off, but that just got my other hand equally filthy. I pushed myself up  and murmured more to myself than Jorel, "I'm going for a ride,"

"Could I come?" he asked, standing up with me. Then I heard him mutter to himself about how stupid he was.

"Yeah, it's fine, let me get you a helmet first," I replied, taking him a bit by surprise.

"Wait, you really want me to?" Jorel asked.

I shrugged, punching in our garage code. "I don't have anything against letting people ride with me at all." I watched the garage door rise slowly, creaking loudly. "I just always require that my passenger and I wear a helmet. I've seen too many people-" I shut my mouth, suddenly not wanting to say the last words.

"No, makes sense," Jorel stepped up, filling in the silence. We both strolled into our fairly empty garage. I headed towards a few shelves on the left wall of the garage where different helmets sat.

"Do you happen to know the size of your head?" I asked him, not expecting a real answer.

"I apologize, I do not measure my head," Jorel smiled at me as he too scanned over the assortment of motorcycle attire. "This one looks cool!" he piped up, pointing at the one that caught his  e ye .

It was a black matte helmet with a sun visor. White lines zig-zagged wildly along the right side of it, like lightning in a night sky.

I nearly launched myself at Jorel, pushing him away from the helmet. "No! Don't touch that!"

Jorel stumbled backward, putting his hands behind him to catch himself in case he fell. I leaped between him and the helmet, putting my arms out to block him.

"I didn't touch it!" Jorel yelled, gaining his balance back. His eyes were wide, mouth twisted into a frown. "I'm sorry," he uttered, calmer.

I lowered my arms and gaze, sinking to the cold concrete floor. "No, Jorel, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking,"

Jorel sat in front of me, still leaving plenty of room between him and me, which I appreciated. "Toby, why didn't you want me to touch it?" he pushed, but kindly.

I sighed and closed my eyes. "It- It was my dad's. After he left,  we \- He sent it to us. It's the only thing I've gotten from him since he left, and I think it'll be the only thing." My throat closed as I felt myself lying.

"Why would he mail you his helmet?" Jorel questioned, obviously unsure about what I told him.

"I don't know, Jorel, why don't you go  a sk  him?" I spat back, immediately jumping on the defensive.

"I'd love to ask him, but I don't know where he is," Jorel said, firmly yet calmly.

Fed up with Jorel's  persistence , I growled. "Do you want to know where he is? My dad's in-"

"Toby!" Mari hurled herself from my front door and into the driveway. She was  laughing  hysterically as she fumbled her way into the garage. She was closely  pursued  by  Jordon , who was mumbling to himself incoherently. "Toby, oh my god! Did you know that  Jordon  here was not in fact named  Jordon ? Nope! His  birth name  is actually  _ Gordon _ . Can you fucking believe that?"

"What?" I muttered in confusion.

Jordon pinched his nose, mumbling, "I wish I never told you that,"

Jorel knit his bold eyebrows, cocking his head to the side. He glanced at Danny who followed Mari and  Jordon  into the garage. "Is this true?"

Danny simply shrugged, looking just as confused as everyone else.

Mari shoved her phone into my hands in which a picture was pulled up on the screen. I squinted to look at it. It was a picture of a birth certificate. Sure enough, it read Gordon Terrell. I glanced to  Jordon , then to his birth certificate.

"So, like the chef who roasts the hell out of people?" I asked, scowling.

Jordon  sighed loudly, dragging his hand down his face. "I regret everything I've ever done."

Mari took her phone back, guffawing. Her laughter dr ew  Dylan outside as well. He held a can of Mountain Dew in his hand as he poked his head into the already full garage.

"What's going on in here? Is it still about Jordon Ramsey?" he inquired.

"Oh my  go d , shut up Dylan! You're not as funny as you think you are!" Jordon groaned, pivoting to face him, tightening his hands into fists.

Mari patted Jordon on the shoulder, pantomiming wiping a tear from her eye. "It's alright Jordon, let's leave Toby and her motorcycle boyfriend alone,"

I scowled at Mari's remark. "That's not even remotely close to the truth,"

"The only thing I'm in a relationship with is her Yamaha," Jorel piped up.

_ Great, _ _ that _  really  _ helps, _  I sarcastically thought. I watched as  Jordon  and Mari walke d  out of the garage, Danny following behind. Dylan and I made eye contact before he too turned around to head back inside, but I noticed something flash in his eyes. I didn't dwell on it, however, as I simply wanted to ride again.

"I honestly did not know that about Jordon," Jorel mumbled, looking over the helmets once again. He knelt down to check out a lower shelf. He grabbed a glossy, lime green helmet.

I snagged my usual helmet and leather jacket from their hooks before noting which helmet Jorel had chosen. "How long have you known him?"

Jorel  tugged  on the helmet. I watched his slim but muscular arms work as he pulled it down. "We met in elementary school. I knew his older brother, Jake, before him. He graduated a few years ago, so it's been a little weird not having him around and just Jordon." Jorel paused, pulling the strap under his chin and fastening it tightly. "Oh, sorry, Gordon,"

I laughed, a nice relieving laugh after having to face my father's absence again.

"This helmet looks brand new," Jorel asked, pulling on it to adjust it better.

"Impulse buy," I simply replied, putting on my own helmet. "While Mari has hundreds of dollars in tank tops and shorts, I throw my money at motorcycle gear."

Under his bright green helmet, Jordon grinned. "Ready?" he asked.

I cracked my neck, stretching out my arms. "Definitely,"

I strolled over to my bike, straddling it and kicking up the kickstand. I stuck the keys in the ignition. Starting the engine, I felt that familiar rumble of my Yamaha. I motioned for Jorel to get on. He propped his feet on the pedals, swinging his leg over, gripping onto my leather clad shoulders. I revved the engine, hearing the engine roar.

"Man, fuck the police, fuck Sam Linder, fuck school. Let's ride." I told Jorel before slapping my visor down, releasing the clutch, and launching into the Inglewood night.


	10. Outlaw in Bed

Jorel and I rode around LA for an hour or two, enjoying the fresh air and quiet streets. When we returned home, I shut the bike off outside the garage, thinking people could already be asleep inside the house. My mom was still not home. Jorel must've noticed my concern face as I put my leather jacket away.

"You got a mom?" Jorel tentatively asked, standing quietly behind me.

"Yeah, but she works on the Northside. If she has a late-shift or overtime she tends to stay at a friend's house if she doesn't want to drive home so late. But she usually calls me to let me know. I haven't heard anything from her yet."

Jorel set his helmet down on a shelf, walking until he was right behind me. I turned around to face him. His normally sleek, black hair was ruffled from the ride, his face a little pink. Marks on his chin were fading. "I'm sure everything is fine. If she's just like you, I'm sure she can handle herself."

With that, I cracked a smile, dipping my head down in gratitude. "Thanks, Jorel,"

"Of course, that's what friends are for," Jorel grinned, sparking a deep, vibrant warmth in my belly, an infectious feeling.

"Friend?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"Well, I hope I'm at a friend status. I fixed your bike, broke your bike, fixed it again saw you hot and sweaty, helped you fall in love with Hollywood High School football, stopped a creepy senior from hitting on you, got you to watch my shitty garage band, helped you after you beat up my best friend, and got to ride on your motorcycle, all in the span of a week. Would be pretty shitty if I weren't at some kind of friend status." Jorel smirked.

I tapped my chin, saying, "You do have a point. I guess I could call you a friend."

Jorel grinned again, only this time it seemed almost sarcastic. "So glad I got your seal of approval. Now let's get inside, I'm sure it's way too late."

I nodded, obliging and following Jorel into my house. Inside, I was expecting  Aron's  party to have followed us. Instead, in the kitchen stood George casually munching away at a bowl of cereal. He stopped mid-chew when he saw us enter the house.

"I hope you don't mind..." George mumbled, his mouth full. I waved him off, letting him continue to eat.

"Where's everyone else?" Jorel asked. George pointed towards the living room. When I turned to look, there were the other five boys and Mari, passed out on the floor, each covered in a vibrant array of blankets, pocketed with holes and loose strings. The group had raided the couch cushions, two people sharing each one.

"Well, that's a little surprising," I whispered, not wanting to wake them.

George set his bowl down on the kitchen counter while saying, "As soon as we got here, Mari questioned all of us, absolutely grilling  Jordon . After the whole birth certificate thing, they wanted to watch TV. About half an hour into that, they were all out. Except for me. I was hungry."

I grabbed my phone from my pocket to check the time, shocked that all of them were that tired. 2:57 am.

"Well shit, it's almost three in the morning," I mumbled.

"For real?" Jorel asked, glancing over my shoulder. "Man, that's past my bedtime,"

I wrinkled my nose at his joke. "Sure it is. But I agree, I need sleep." I glanced once more at the living room, seeing nearly all the floor taken up by the sleeping teenagers.

"Want to crash upstairs?" I turned around to face Jorel.

He shrugged, motioning to George. "What about you, man?"

George picked up his bowl, scooping cereal into his mouth. "I'll find room out there, don't worry about it. Get some good sleep, hype-man."

"Thanks, man," Jorel smiled, flipping off his friend.

"You too, biker  chick ," George grinned devilishly.

I just laughed. " Good night , George,"

With a final raise of his cereal bowl, Jorel and I traveled upstairs to my room. It was small, fitting my bed and a desk and not much more. The walls were a hideous neon green, a color you would never catch me dead in, but it was how we got the house. My bed was pushed underneath the only window in the room which faced the east, allowing the sunrise in every day. It was my wake-up call. The bedspread was a mash of old quilts from my grandmother and a polka dot blanket I've had since I was a kid. Needless to say, my room did not fit the badass-motorcycle-riding-Inglewood-chick vibe I was trying to give off.

Jorel stifled a laugh, baffled by my room. "Wow, are we in  Jordon's  room or what?"

I knit my eyebrows at Jorel, not getting the joke.

"Jordon used to love neon and tie-dye everything a few years back. But when he got into high school he realized he was  an  idiot and changed to a much more sensible fashion." Jorel explained.

"Yeah, this room would be fit for a young  Jordon . I can't stand this color. Who paints a room nasty-ass neon green?" I exclaimed.

"It's definitely... Bright," Jorel paused, attempting to think of something positive from the situation.

I rolled my eyes, smiling at his ridiculousness. "So where do you want to sleep?" I asked Jorel.

He shrugged. "The most logical answer is the bed, of course," He motioned.

"Sure, as long as you don't mind me snoring," I goofed.

"As long as it's not as loud as that Yamaha is, I think we're good." Jorel's grin spread ear to ear.

I smirked at the boy. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

Jorel put his hand to his chest, pantomiming shock. "Ms. Biker Chick, are you hitting on me?"

I knit my eyebrows. "One, don't call me biker chick, or I'll call you hype-man," Jorel shrugged at the ultimatum, "and two," I paused thinking on how to phrase the words stumbling through my head. Something about Dylan and that stupid game...

"Two?" Jorel asked, shaking me back to reality.

"Two," I continued, brushing my previous thoughts away, "I need to change and go to bed,"

"Alright,  _ Toby _ ,  I'll give you that one," Jorel gave up with the act.

I sighed in relief, turning to my closet to grab an oversized T-shirt Mari gave me from one of her acting camps. I also snagged a pair of basketball shorts. Normally I'd go for something shorter in this heat. I knew I should keep my clothes a little more conservative given the situation in my house. After I changed in the bathroom, I went back into my room a nd  was stopped dead in my tracks.  Jorel  was facing away from the door, bending over to untie his shoes. His lean back muscles looked more sculpted under the shitty, dimmed lighting of my room. I quickly covered my eyes and turned around.

"Jorel!" I seethed, "Put a shirt on!"

"This is how I sleep!" he whispered back.

"I'm not going to bed with a half-naked man I hardly know next to me!" I ordered, refusing to turn around.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know that would make you uncomfortable," Jorel apologized. I heard him slip a T-shirt back on so I turned around.

Silently we both got into my bed. I laid there for a few moments, reminiscing on the insane week I had just experienced.

"Hey, Toby?" I heard Jorel mumble next to me.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"If it's not too weird, why was  I  being shirtless so uncomfortable for you? You seemed just fine with it at Rob's," Jorel tentatively questioned.

I sighed, understanding his confusion. "It... It comes from my dad. When he was... Here, he would force-" I stopped, trying to think of a word that wouldn't scare Jorel. "He would make sure I understood his  rule  of boys in the house. So I guess I'm just... On edge about it. Kind of programmed into me," I winced after saying that, hating to lie to Jorel.

"I guessed that makes sense," Jorel and I went silent again. I turned on my side, away from Jorel and towards the window until I heard a whisper.

"Are you okay, Toby?" Jorel murmured, so quietly I almost couldn't hear.

I paused for a moment, processing his question. I replied, "Of course, I'm fine! What would prompt you to ask something like that?"

Jorel inhaled before saying, "I know your dad left you and everything, I'm not doubting how hard that is. My dad really isn't in my life either. I'm lucky if I get to see him every few months. We all miss our fathers when they're gone, but you... React differently."

Something caught in my throat. No one has ever questioned me this last year about my father as much as Jorel has in this last week. I've been cracking under the pressure, hinting to what's buried deep inside.

_ Do I tell him? _  I asked myself.  _ I've told no one but Mari about where my dad is. _

"Toby, please answer me," Jorel's voice was simply a wisp, so quiet.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, finally saying, "I just wish I could ride with him."

I heard the sound of Jorel nodding. He didn't say anything. Could he hear through my lie? Did he pity me? I wasn't sure.

"Goodnight, biker chick," Jorel mumbled, turning away from me.

I stared at the ceiling terrified of saying anything before breaking down completely. Somehow, I got together enough courage to mutter, "Goodnight, hype-man,"

I took a few deep breaths, settled in, and fell asleep.

I woke up to something poking me in the cheek. My first response to someone so rudely  awakening  me was muttering, "Jorel, I'll kill you,"

There  was  another poke and a booming voice, "Fool, I ain't that gay bitch,"

I cracked my eyes open to see Dylan standing next to my bed, still in his jeans and sweatshirt from the night before. He crossed his arms over chest as I rubbed my eyes. "What time is it?"

"Time for you to get up," Dylan smirked, turning to leave my room.

"No, you fucker, the actual time!" I called after him with no response. I scoffed at him and squinted at my alarm clock. 10:23 am, Saturday, September 7th. Groaning, I threw the sheets off my body and pushed my legs to the edge of the bed. Before I could even get up, another guy walked into my room.

"Your mom called this morning," Jorel spoke softly, something I appreciated after Dylan's boisterous wake-up call.

"Really?" I asked, rubbing my eyes again as I sat on the side of the bed.

"Yeah," Jorel replied, stepping into the room and taking a seat next to me. "She said she was sorry she didn't call last night, Sarah was having some "personal issues" downtown and she was too busy to contact you. She said she'll be home at seven tonight to cook dinner,"

I sighed with relief out of knowing my mother was okay and safely with Sarah. I've grown to hate the nights she's not home, but oddly enough, I slept easier last night with Jorel by my side.

"Thank you, Jorel, for telling me," I told him, beginning to stand up and stretch.

"No problem. We're all having food downstairs, pancakes for all this morning," Jorel informed me, standing up too. I knit my eyebrows, confused.

"We don't have any pancake mix..." I trailed off.

Jorel gave me a little chuckle before saying, "But McDonald's does."

"Oh, hell no!" I yelled, chasing after Jorel through the hall and down the stairs. I was greeted with everyone gathered in a circle around a pile of McDonald's pancakes.

"She has risen!" Mari called out, jumping up with a pancake in her hand. She pointed at me with the pancake hand, then motioned for me to join them.

I rolled my eyes but obliged, sitting down in the almost cult-like circle and digging into a few gross pancakes of my own. 

Shortly after our breakfast, almost everyone needed a ride back to  Aron's  house. This time,  Jordon  clamored to ride on the Yamaha with me. Mari drove Aron, Danny, George, Matt, and Jorel, leaving poor Danny unbuckled and to the mercy of  Mari's  terrible driving. I had Dylan stay at my house to hold the fort and wait for us to get back.

Jordon  was a much more difficult passenger than Jorel. He gave me a constant play-by-play update of the surrounding Inglewood neighborhood along with yelling at random, "Go fast, biker chick, get this thing going!" I then decided to mess with him, unnecessarily breaking hard and accelerating quickly, throwing the boy around on the backseat and clinging for dear life.

Once we reach ed  Aron's house, Jordon was more than happy with getting off.

"You're an evil girl, biker chick,"  Jordon  grumbled, pulling the helmet off his head and handing it to me. "But that was still fun as hell, we should do that again sometime!"

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help but smile a little bit. "In your dreams,  Jordon ,"

I passed the helmet off to Mari as I said good-bye to the rest of the guys. They each got into their own cars and  Aron  went inside his house - which, by the way, was completely trashed. There was still a few drops of blood on his driveway from when I decked Sam Linder. I shook that memory away before turning around and driving home.

Once I was back in my driveway, I saw Dylan sitting on my front step. I hit the kill switch and the engine died. I pulled my helmet off and walked over to Dylan.

"So... Inglewood girl..." Dylan said, more curious than malicious.

"Yeah, it's not a fun commute every morning," I tried to keep the mood light.

"No, it's chill, I mean Aron has to do the same thing, I guess I was just... Like you're badass and ride a motorcycle and  all that  but everything else about you seems so much more... Hollywood." Dylan was struggling to find the words.

"That's where I used to live," I told Dylan. "But we moved, it became too expensive. This was our best option."

"Inglewood... It can get dangerous out here, people worse than Sam Linder, Aron's told me stories." Dylan laced his fingers together and rested his elbows on his knees. "I guess what I'm trying to say is be careful out here, biker chick. You're badass, but so is the hood."

"Thank you, Dylan, I appreciate it," I patted him on the back. I really did appreciate his sentiment, but at the same time, I've been here over a year, running the streets almost every day. And it's not like when I moved here was the first time I've ever been here either. I was pretty sure guys like Sam Linder wouldn't be waiting around every corner.

Mari's car pulled into the driveway, cueing Dylan to leave. "And thank you, Toby, for giving me a workout and some couch cushions."

I gave the football player a laugh. "No problem, Dylan, see you in pre-calc."

He gave me a final wave good-bye and hopped into Mari's car to head home.


	11. Cold, Dead Hands

After Dylan left with Mari, I felt very confused, or, more likely, my feelings were confused. Between my talks with  Jorel , my jealousy with Dylan, my uneasiness towards Aron, my hatred towards Sam, and my concern for Mari, I was being pulled a million different ways.

I wanted to tell Jorel the truth, but it didn't feel right. Not yet at least. He seemed like he'd be able to understand what I was going through more than anybody, but I hardly knew him. It took me years to talk to Mari about  what  my father was doing to my mom and I and she's my best friend.

Even more frustrating was dealing with this constant ping of jealousy rushing through me when I'm with Dylan. It's gross and my brain does  _ not _  agree. The last time I liked someone and tried to ask them out, it ended badly. Granted, he ended up liking me a few months after, but by then I had lost my feelings towards him. Plus, I don't even have feelings for Dylan, maybe I’m just jealous he gets more attention than me because he's more attractive than me. I didn't dwell on it.

And then there was Aron. One minute he's a nervous, shy guy who preferred to observe instead of interact. But then the next, he was blunt and assertive, almost aggressive in his words and actions; like when he saw me at the movie theater. I just wasn't sure how to feel about him, how do I know when the switch flips?

But right now, my biggest concern was  Sam Linder . Ever since I moved after my freshman year, I've kept it under wraps. How did Sam find out? The only person who could've known was Mari.

Or one of the guys.

They met me in Inglewood.

They've seen  me  work in Inglewood.

Now they know exactly where my house is in Inglewood.

What have I done?

I quickly stopped myself from spiraling down even further with reminding myself about homework. Because of taking extra hours to pay off the bike repairs, I had to work that Saturday night and then again Sunday afternoon.

I spent the rest of my day working on homework, cleaning up the house, and wasting time when I was in between tasks, trying to get my mind off of everything and be as relaxed as possible for my shift.

My mom got home right as I was getting my uniform on. She practically tumbled into my arms.

"Oh, Toby, I’m so sorry about last night. Mr. Richards had me log his latest client's files not telling me that there were over two-hundred. I was so tired I had to call Denise. Oh, honey, I wish I could've come home," my mom sighed. She carefully placed both her hands on my cheeks.

"Of course, Mom, I’m just glad  you're  home," I hugged her again as my mind flashed back to the night before, mainly how I wiped Sam Linder's blood off my hands in the grass in front of Aron's house.

That's when I remembered Jason. With all the chaos from running to my place to riding with  Jorel , he had slipped my mind.

"Hey mom, I  gotta  call someone  real  quick before I leave for work,"

My mother nodded, stepping back and heading upstairs. I grabbed my phone and dialed Mari. She picked up almost immediately.

"Toby! What's up? Miss me already?" she sarcastically cooed.

"Mari; Jason, we left him, oh my god we left him with Sam, is he okay?" I almost yelled in a panic but tried to stay quiet, not wanting to alert my mom.

"I checked my phone this morning. Emily took him to her car before the cops came. She called me, but I obviously couldn't pick up because your ass was running down the street. When she saw everyone else scrambling, she drove back to her place. Jason woke up shortly after. He's okay, just has a broken nose and some bruises to his face. He's taking a few days off." Mari answered.

"Did he ever tell Emily how he ended up in a fight with Sam?" I pressed.

"No, she said he was essentially a mute the whole time he was with her, she assumed from the shock," Mari paused. "Chick-fil-A was right, shit went down. Stay away from that Sam guy and his gang, he obviously has something against you."

I exhaled loudly, trying to relax. "Thanks, Mari, and I promise I will."

With that, I hung up, grabbed my helmet and headed out.

Throughout my shift I was on edge, fully expecting Aron or one of the other guys to  come  find me or for Sam to finish his job. As I swept an empty theater, I got thinking: why is Sam so hostile towards me? Why is he trying to expose me to the school? What could he gain from it? All I could think of was that Sam Linder was an asshole and enjoyed attention, and that's it.

Slowly, the last few hours of my shift crept on, leaving a senior co-worker from Inglewood High School and me to lock up. No Aron, no Sam, nobody. I was grateful for making some new friends but a day from the chaos was not unwelcome.

At 2:23 am, I only had enough energy to take my uniform off and collapse into bed, sinking into the sheets, this time  there was  no one to share  with .

A 9 am wakeup call came with a groggy shake from my mom.

"Toby, run and then breakfast. I want this house as clean as it can get before we're both gone again for a week."

I groaned, slowly sitting up in bed. My mom swiftly left the room. Sundays were her only days off, and she still was always working.

I'm sure she missed living in the Hills where we had monthly cleaners deep cleanse our whole place, leaving us with only a few daily chores to concern ourselves with. But now, without any outside help, my mom  reveled  in working and cleaning, maybe in an attempt to reclaim our old life, or in order to seep the bad memories away along with the other dust bunnies.

I had changed quickly, noticing the special gift of donuts on the counter. My mom must've gotten them downtown during her overnight stay.

I opened the door, stepped outside, and took a deep breath.

My street was nice, with most of the homeowners watering their flowers and mowing their grass regularly. There's been only one police call in my last year here which was for a domestic abuse allegation a few houses down.

Today, I decided to run to the east, into the rising sun. The neighborhood started to become more familiar to me. I'd recognize mailboxes and cats in windows, hanging plants and cracked driveways, abandoned skateboards and broken beer bottles.

Lots of broken beer bottles.

And beer cans.

Was that a shoe?

I slowed my pace to look at the side of the road where a single Converse lay, stained and half-unlaced. That's when I looked up.

I was at Aron's house. Again.

It was littered with cups and cans, paper plates and a box of Cheez-Its. His mailbox was slightly askew and his floodlights still hung from his garage. A car sat idling in the driveway. That same car from a few days earlier. It was a black Ford Mustang. I squinted, trying to see if anyone was in the driver's seat, but I couldn't tell.

Finally, the license plate. I had a feeling Aron himself had to do with this car. It wasn't just a carpool to school as I had originally thought ;  it  was  9:30 on a Sunday.

STE-8GN.

I took one last glance at the lonely car, turned away from Aron's house and ran on.

The rest of my Sunday was cleaning with my mom. My shift started at 4:00 so I did as much as I could before I had to go get read. As I was gathering my things, my phone buzzed.

_ 'Hey Toby, its  _ _ Jorel _ _! got your number from Robs books, just wondering how you're doing _ _ , _ _  mainly if your knuckles have healed from bashing that  _ _ asscrack's _ _  face in' _

I smiled as I read  Jorel's  text, typing back,  _ 'oh they're fantastic, hope I can't say the same for  _ _ linder _ _ ' _  I paused for a moment before also texting him,  _ 'do you by chance know Jason  _ _ hernandez _ _  at all?' _

Jorel  replied shortly after,  _ 'A little bit, Aron told me that he was arguing with  _ _ sam _ _  before they got into a fight,  _ _ somethin _ _  about a deal gone bad' _

That made sense, Sam was an alleged drug dealer or at least some kind of mule. No one really knew who he was outside of just a douche who acted all tough.

_ 'because when Jason stumbled into the kitchen he told me to stay away from Sam, do you think he knows about Sam threatening me?' _  I quickly typed, desperate for answers.

There was a pause. I'd have to leave soon.

_ 'you should talk to him but give him time to recover, people don't usually beat up Linder and win on their first try' _ Jorel  finally replied.

_ ' _ _ thx _ _  man, off to work, ttyl'  _ I texted a good-bye before heading out.

Crashing into bed that night was almost as good as my last shift. This time, I fell asleep a little more comfortable, sure Jason had the answers.

My mother-alarm woke me the next morning, forcing me to squint my eyes into the beaming sun. Sometimes seeing the sunrise every day sucked.

"Up, up! Your phone has been going crazy down there and I'm  _ this _  close to throwing it out the window," my mom  – hopefully –  joked.

I got out of bed, following her downstairs. "Yeah, mom, I've made some new friends." I reached for my phone.

My mom strolled to the stove where she was scrambling some eggs. "New friends, Toby? Is it more Maris?"

I laughed before answering, "No, they're all very different. In fact, one of the people I met works at Rob's shop."

My mom turned to me, raising an eyebrow. " So  Rob's finally working with people other than his nephew?"

"Seems like it, Rob seems happy to have him around."

"Oh, so it's a guy friend?" my mom prodded, her voice  _ definitely _  going up an octave.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, they are,"

My mother snickered, turning the stove off as she had finished making breakfast. "Well, as long as this new  _ friend _  uses pro-"

"Mom!" I yelled. "I'm going to cut you off there. He's literally just a friend. I've known him for a week."

Now my mom was just full on laughing. "Oh, Toby, I'm just glad you're meeting more people,"

With that, I decided to check my phone. I had over 50 text messages, all from random numbers.

" Jorel , you  nutsack , did you leak my number to the whole school?" I mumbled, unlocking my phone.

But turns out all the texts were from the same six numbers. I opened the first chat.

_ 'biker chick more like biker KICK THAT HOE in the  _ _ asS _ _ ' _  I deduced that that was Jordon almost immediately. ' _ btw  _ _ lil _ _  j-bird hooked us up' _

Oh, so  Jorel  did something far worse than giving my number to the whole school.

_ 'this is for emergencies only or I swear to god' _  I replied, moving on to the next chat.

_ 'Hey Toby, you got Maris #?' _

_ 'no wait I should ask her' _

_ 'why the hell am I texting you' _

I simply responded, ' _ Hey George' _

Next chat.

_ 'thanks for the crash, my place is beyond fucked and I got  _ _ hella _ _  tickets to pay but that was still a damn fun party' _  It was Aron.

_ ' _ _ np _ _  man' _  was all I felt like I needed to say.

I read over the last few chats trying to figure out who sent what. I knew who the last person was without even looking at his messages. He was the one who asked  Jorel  for my number first.

_ 'thanks for coming to my game, you still owe me a ride. see you in  _ _ pre  _ _ calc _ _ ' _

I couldn't help but smile at Dylan's text. That was until I noticed the time and the fact that the eggs were getting cold. I wolfed down what my mom had left me before running upstairs. Today's outfit? Leggings and an oversized  Black Eyed  Peas T-shirt I bunched together on my side, cinching the tee around my waist. I decided to leave my hair as is, only with a simple comb through to get most of the knots out. Finishing up my morning routine, I felt ready for my second week of school.

The morning air was a little cooler that day, stinging my bare hands and tightening my grip. After arriving at school. I almost had to pry them off my handlebars. As I was walking towards the front door  when  there was a flash of black, a rush of wind, and I stumbled backwards, righting myself before I could fall.

"What the hell?" I mumbled, seeing nobody else immediately around. Someone was revving their engine in the parking lot, girls were chatting together loudly ten feet ahead of me and seagulls were calling as they circled above in search of trash. Despite all this noise, my ears perked up when I heard someone laugh just behind me.

I whipped around to be face to face with  Jorel .

" _ You're _  the  asshat  on the skateboard!" I exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger. "You better not do this every Monday."

Jorel  laughed again. "Guilty," he paused, "but you have to admit it's hilarious you had no idea."

I rolled my eyes. "Aren't skateboards not allowed on campus?"

Jorel  shrugged. "Neither am I, yet here we are." I raised an eyebrow at that but remembered how I promised myself I wouldn't ask him personal questions. "How are you doing biker chick?" He asked, kicking his board into his hands.

"My phone's been blowing up and I've worked too much, but I think all the partying and running has evened out the stress," I replied, trying to keep things light.

Jorel  laughed and I couldn't help but steal a look at his smiling face.  _ How could he be so happy on a Monday, especially after everything at Aron's? _  I thought.

"Sorry about that, Dylan- I mean, all the guys,"  Jorel  paused to give me an over-exaggerated wink, "wouldn't stop pestering me."

I gave the boy a light shove. "I'm not into Dylan,  you  dork, I only stand him so he doesn't ask for my math homework as often as Jordon does."

Jorel  nodded, agreeing with me. "Well, Toby, I better-"

"J!" a gruff voice yelled. I turned around to see our resource officer standing just outside the entrance, arms crossed.

Jorel  sighed. "I better get going," he finished his sentence. "Catch you around, biker chick," One last little smile before he dropped his board, gave one push and rode across the sidewalk, bobbing and weaving away from school.

As I walked into school I passed the resource officer as he talked into his radio.

"Yeah, I got him to leave... Next time I'll remind him... Oh no, he knows... I'll direct him back to you, Ben, if he's interested." He made eye contact with me. "I have reason s  to think so."

I kept walking, wondering what he could all be talking about. At least it was starting to make sense why I never saw  Jorel  at school: because he wasn't allowed on campus.

I got inside, hanging up my jacket and helmet. My knuckles were still a little red and raw.

"Toby!" I heard Mari yell from down the hall. She came skipping towards me, pulling me into a huge bear hug. "How are you doing?" she asked, her voice slightly muffled from my hair.

"Better, still trying to make sense of everything,"

"With Jason and Sam?" she clarified, lowering her voice as to not draw attention.

"Yeah, but I'm trying to forget about it all, just focus on school," I replied, shutting my locker.

"Good luck with that girl," she said as the first bell rang. "Catch you later!" she called out as she walked away.

I took a deep breath in before taking my now familiar path to pre-calc. I reached the door in no time, almost apprehensive about stepping inside. I did anyways to practically roaring applause.

" Hell  yeah biker chick!"

"Fucking wild night girl,"

"Can you punch me too?"

"Dylan better be the sharing type,"

"Fuck it up, Toby!"

I froze in my spot to my classmates slewing comments – however creepy – at me. I knew a lot of people were at Aron's party, but there was no way in  _ hell _  that everyone in my  _ math _  class went.

I did a stupid bow before heading to my seat, my neighbors already in theirs. I set my backpack down as the class's conversation dropped down to whispers and mumbles as if I hadn't even arrived.

"And I didn't think you could get more popular, Toby," Jordon joked, leaning back in his desk. "But I guess if Hollywood High's resident biker chick shows up at a party in Inglewood, destroys every frat boy with her NFL knowledge, and then proceeds to beat up not one, but two of the most notorious fight ers  there, I'm not surprised your name is coming up more." Jordon paused. "Do you think it'll rub off on me?"

"The only thing rubbing off on you is a lonely prostitute," Dylan interjected with a giggle.

"Nice to see you guys too," I tried not to laugh.

"So, Toby," Dylan said, tapping on my shoulder. I could feel his breath on my neck.

I turned in my seat to face him. Today he wore a tight Under Armor long sleeve with the sleeves rolled up and red basketball shorts. "What's up, Dylan?"

"Is Friday night going to become a weekly thing?" he asked.

I raised an eyebrow. "If you take out caring for a passed-out guy and getting in fights, then yes."

"So, I'll see you at my game this weekend," he inquired, his voice rising ever so faintly.

I smiled and nodded, happy to see Dylan's big, goofy grin.

"Good,  'cause  you might be my lucky charm."

With that, I rolled my eyes, shook my head and patted him on the arm. "I'm doing it because I get free tickets."

Dylan raised an eyebrow. "Well, then I'll have to have a talk with Aron about that,"

I giggled and turned around, hearing the teacher begin her lesson. I tried to focus, but I couldn't wipe this stupid smile off my face. Soon, the bell rang, releasing me from pre- calc  hell. I gathered my stuff and stood up to head out the door until I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Seriously, thank you for coming to my game. And for the ride and the couch cushions." Dylan said with sincerity.

I was slightly taken aback by his sentiment, especially coming from someone who almost was as sarcastic as Jordon.

"You're all my friends, Dylan, of  course  I'd help out," I simply said, feeling like it oddly wasn't enough.

He let go of my shoulder, shuffling past me to catch up to Jordon who was quickly sneaking away. "Catch you later, biker chick," he called right before leaving.

I stood for a moment, noticing my heart rate had increased ever so slightly during my encounter. Was I surprised? Definitely.

I'm usually not one to do stuff for others. Yes, of  course  I'm helpful and will give a hand to those in need, but I usually don't go out of my way to participate in something just because someone else wanted me to. In Hollywood, I had everything I wanted at home or with Mari. Now, I don't have the time or means.

But it felt good.

During lunch, I tried my best to get head on homework as I'd be working for the next three days. My manager had already given me Friday off since he found out I've suddenly gained interest in Hollywood High's football games. Mari wasn't being much of a help as all she wanted to talk about was the weekend.

"Is Aron actually stronger or were they just saying that to make you feel better? He seems a little scrawny to be much more," she questioned, munching away at a ham and cheese sandwich.

"Oh, he was strong," I assured her, remembering ou r  fight I'm sure we both took too seriously. That's when I remembered the car in Aron's driveway. What I thought was his carpool to school but was actually there much more often.

"Hey Mari, do you know anyone who drives a black Ford Mustang?" I asked her.

She thought for a bit before replying, "No, honestly, not off the top of my head, why?"

"Thought it was a new student or something, noticed it in the parking lot this morning." I lied, not sure how to defend my near paranoia.

Mari shrugged. "Yeah, I'm sorry, can't help you," I waved her off, turning back to my homework. Thankfully, Mari had as gotten the clue that I need at least some relative quiet in order to focus.

Other than Photo ,  all my classes were pretty boring as we had settled into our curriculums and were already a few days into the units. We had just received our first project in Photo: three pictures that represent what you love, what you fear, and what you desire.

"Del Taco, no Del Taco, and more Del Taco," Jordon quickly responded after hearing the assignment.

"Since you love Del Taco so much, maybe you should shove a  _ carne  _ _ asada _  burrito up your ass," I snidely replied.

"I don't know, Toby," Mari spoke, grinning, "I’m impressed with the ease at which h is  creative endeavors come to him."

I rolled my eyes as I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I checked to see who it was from.  Jorel .

_ 'swing by Rob's tonight I got something for you' _

Intrigued, I replied,  _ 'so special you can't tell me?' _

Only a minute later, another text.  _ 'you'll have to wait and see biker chick' _  And almost immediately after,  _ 'you need a new nickname' _ .

I chuckled to myself as I texted,  _ 'It's only been a week!' _

_ 'oh no biker chick _ _ , _ _  it suits you,  _ _ ya _ _  know badass aura and everything, but I mean I've slept in your bed, don't you think I got the premium friend upgrade?' _

_ 'Whoa  _ _ there _ _  mister,  _ _ lets _ _  start at the bronze level first. Anyways, even  _ _ mari _ _  doesn't give me any nicknames' _

_ 'really now? you're deserving of more nicknames than just biker chick. I swear upon your  _ _ yamaha's _ _  clutch I will get you a sick new nickname' _

_ 'let's leave my clutch out of this' _  I sent before my teacher called, "Ms. Chase, is that phone a distraction?"

I shook my head, slipping my phone back into my pocket.

"Who was that?" Jordon whispered into my ear, finishing a sketch of the Del Taco logo instead of taking notes on composition.

" Jorel ," I told him, trying to refocus on class.

"You two are quite talkative, does Dylan have competition?" Jordon wiggled his eyebrows.

"You know I don't like Dylan like that," I nearly hissed back. My phone buzzed again but I resisted the urge to check it.

"I don't know, you did come to his game," Jordon pointed out, capping his pen and placing his "notes" on the table.

"Maybe so he wouldn't annoy me in class?" I fired back.

"Oh man, I'll let him know that," Jordon muttered, leaning back in his seat.

I paused for a moment before saying, "Wait, you guys talk about me?"

Jordon opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by Mari.

"Jordon, you are  _ une _ _  artiste _ ,"

Jordon nodded. "Why thank you, Ms. Davidson."

Our conversation had dropped, but there was still that tingling thought in the back of my head that the guys were talking about me. I mean, hell, everyone was at this point, but to have my new group of friends privately discussing me felt... Weird.

At the end of class, I told Mari good-bye before hopping on the back of my motorcycle to head back to Inglewood.  Usually , I could beat the rush-hour home, but my stop at Rob's would put me in the thick of it. It was always so much nicer when I lived only a couple of miles from school.

I weaved through traffic for twenty-five minutes before arriving at  _ Rob's Automotive Repair _ . I saw  Rob in  his garage inspecting a pick-up truck's engine.

"Toby," he acknowledged me without turning around, his hands busy at work.

"Rob," I responded, nodding as if he could see me. "Where's  Jorel ?"

Rob lifted his left hand, pointing to the back of the shop, head still under the hood. "By the bikes of course,"

"Thanks, Rob," I said, continuing my way to the row of motorcycles, which had considerably dwindled. Rob's usually had about twenty motorcycles at a time to work on, but with the extra help, that number was now down to five. I looked for the teenage boy but couldn't immediately see him.

" Jorel ?" I called, craning my neck over the Honda Sabre closest to me.

"Yeah!" I heard a vivacious reply,  Jorel  popping up at the end of the row. "Oh, hey!" he happily responded after seeing it was me. "You made it,"

"Well, of course, Rob's is on the way home, hard to miss it," I smiled back. "What did you want to ask me about?"

Jorel  wiped his hand off on his jeans, setting down a ratchet. "Did any of the guys tell you anything today?"

I shook my head. "Were they supposed to?"

"No, not at all! This is my surprise!"  Jorel  laughed. " Come  sit with me," he said as he strolled past me and towards Rob's office.

"Rob doesn't care?" I asked, knowing how he got about his personal items. After knowing Rob my whole life, he treated me like a part of the family, but  Jorel's  only been here for a few weeks...

"Well I have to come in here to finish reports and fill out orders, so he's got a basic okay-ness with it."

I giggled at  Jorel's  response as we sat down in Rob's office. It was a small little cubicle with large glass windows all around the walls so he could have a full view of his shop at all times. His old, faded desk was accompanied by large file cabinets and a large, plush office chair, one of Rob's splurges. His desk was neat and organized, only the files sitting out that he absolutely needed. On the other side of his desk were two chairs like you'd find in a waiting room at a clinic. This is where  Jorel  and I sat.

"How's the job been?" I asked, taking my backpack off.

"It's been amazing, a great way to get out of the house, my mom thinks I'm safe here,"  Jorel  sighed.

I could tell how tired he was, his normally striking eyebrows were dropped low over his eyes. I knew prodding was not an option.

"Anyways,"  Jorel  perked up again, "we  gotta  talk business."

"Business?" I leaned forward, placing my elbows on my knees.

Jorel  rubbed his hand together, biting his bottom lip. "So, do you know what's special with this week?"

I shook my head. "But if this has something to do with football, I've heard it enough already. ”

Jorel  stopped rubbing his hands and instead clasped them together. "Okay, well, it's after the game on Friday..."

My stomach churned. " Jorel , you know me and after parties hasn't exactly gone well, and that's only been one weekend,"

Jorel  put his hands up to stop me. "Oh no! This will be nothing like this past weekend. It's a small get together I'll be hosting, to celebrate Friday the 13th. We'll binge horror movies and get spooky or whatever."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, that's nice to hear. I'll take horror movies over Saturday's shit show any day."

"Thought you would say that!"  Jorel  beamed, his heart-melting smile making my belly twist but for a whole different reason than moments before.

"So what else do you need?"

Jorel  knit his eyebrows in confusion. "Why would you think that?"

"You started this whole damn thing with wanting to "talk business," no?" I sarcastically asked.

"Oh, yes, of course. See you come in-"

There was a clatter from out in the garage.  Jorel  looked over my shoulder and his eyes grew wide. "Shit, Toby, get down," he whispered, grabbing my wrist and pulling me off the chair, sending us tumbling onto the floor.

"What the hell J-" I tried to call out before his hand slapped over my mouth.

"It's Tony Robles, one of Sam Linder's goons," he mumbled as we lay on the floor.

I pulled his still-greasy hand off of my face, shooting him a look. "And why does it matter that he's here?"

Jorel  pressed his lips into a line, his eyebrows furrowing. "He just can't see me,"  Jorel  said matter-of-factly, clearly not wanting to elaborate at all.

We lay there for a few seconds. We both were on our stomachs in between the chairs and Rob's desk, facing each other. There was a click as the office door opened slowly and then was shut again.

"Jorel, one of the Eighters is here, asking if I've seen you around, says Alfonso is calling for you. Said I've seen you skate by a few times but never took much notice." Rob mumbled as he kept his eyes up, walking towards his file cabinets. "I told them to stay out of here, that this place is off the map, but if you get caught here that changes everything." Rob opened one of the drawers and rifled through it. "You know I'm done with this shit, J, so whatever you gotta do to keep them out of here, do it." Rob had found what he needed, taking it from the cabinet and closing it. "And if that means you can't come back here anymore, then that's just how it's gonna be." With that, Rob huffed and strolled out of the office, closing the door behind him.

Silence fell across the small room, the smell of gasoline and oil filtering up from the old carpet.  Jorel's  breathing was shaky. I could hear my heartbeat, feel it pounding against my chest.

We lay there for what felt like hours, unmoving, only focusing on breathing and blinking. We didn't make eye contact.  Jorel  swallowed hard.

The office door swung open again. Rob stepped in, looking down at the two of us.

"I'm sorry  Jorel , but it's for the best. You need to leave, and don't come back until that's dealt with." Rob left the door open as he walked back into his shop.

Jorel  pushed himself up off the floor, grabbing on to the desk as he stood as if he had been out at sea for a week. He tried to hide the slight shake in his legs.

I stood up too, brushing off the front of my shirt. I glanced at  Jorel  through my hair, seeing him looking down at the floor.

"C'mon, I'll give you a ride," I said quietly, slowly walking towards the sunlit garage.


End file.
